


Phoenix

by parenthetical, Zooey_Glass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fire, Gen, spn: season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-29
Updated: 2007-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parenthetical/pseuds/parenthetical, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooey_Glass/pseuds/Zooey_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-2.15 - Tall Tales. Sam and Dean investigate a nursery fire in Phoenix, Arizona.</p><p><cite>The acrid smell that hit them was painfully familiar, though Sam tried to ignore it. He saw Dean register it too; his brother moved one step closer, hand poised by his gun.<br/>Too many bad memories.<br/>The room must have been the nursery, but there was almost nothing left to show it, save a solitary singed strip of wallpaper next to the door with a discoloured rainbow on it.</cite></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2007 spn_j2_bigbang challenge on LJ. The lovely lady_vyola created two amazing pieces of art for this fic, which can be seen at the end. Thank you to Aynslee for the awesome beta! The lore in this fic is based on real Yakut mythology, but we've taken many liberties with the source material; no disrespect is intended to the Yakut people.

The sound of the laptop slamming shut echoed around the motel room, and Sam looked up in annoyance.

'Dammit, Dean, I've only just got the computer working again.'

'Yeah, well, you didn't do a real good job, Sammy,' Dean said, setting it down carelessly on the bed. 'I think whatever that fucking trickster god set up is still downloading porn on the sly.'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'For... Dean, I _fixed_ that. Give it here. How many programs have you got running, man? No wonder it's so slow. And look at all these tabs! Somehow I don't think it's the trickster downloading the porn, Dean.'

Dean was wearing his best wounded expression. 'Dude, didn't we get past you accusing me of that shit?'

'_Busty blonde beauties_?' Sam quoted, eyeing Dean pointedly. 'That's not an accusation, Dean, that's cold, hard evidence.'

Dean grinned. 'Warm and soft, Sammy, warm and soft.'

'You...' Sam shook his head in exasperation and started trying to repair his laptop. Again.

Dean was still smirking when his cellphone burst to life. He grabbed it, but grimaced as he caught sight of the caller ID.

'Aren't you gonna answer that?' Sam asked, glancing up from the laptop.

Dean just looked at him. 'Dude, my ears are still ringing from him chewing us out, and that was a week ago now.'

'It's Bobby?' Sam asked, surprised. Then a smile spread slowly across his face. 'Better you than me, man.'

'Jeez,' Dean muttered, and grimaced at the phone one last time before sliding it open. 'Bobby! Hi! Good to hear from you.'

Sam leaned back in his chair, laughing quietly at Dean's expression. His laughter faded, though, as the false grin fell away, replaced by grim seriousness.

'When did it happen? Uhuh... Phoenix? OK, Bobby, we'll take care of it,' Dean was saying.

Sam was on his feet and packing before Dean had even ended the call. 'Everything OK?' he asked, as his brother slid his cell shut.

'Bobby's got a gig for us in Arizona... he's working on a haunting at the moment, can't make it himself. And - he figured we might want to take this one.'

'Why?' Sam said, already feeling an uneasy intimation that he wasn't going to like the answer.

'House fire two days ago, no obvious cause,' Dean said flatly. 'Fire started in the nursery.'

Sam stared, clean clothes forgotten in his hands. 'Fuck. You think...?'

'Don't know, Sammy, but it's sure as hell worth checking out. All the family got out fine, but...'

Sam stared for a moment longer, then snapped into action, grabbing the still-frozen laptop and shoving it into its case.

'If you move your ass, we might be able to get there tonight,' Dean said, glancing pointedly across at Sam's book lying on the bedside table.

For once, Sam didn't argue, just moved. Even though he had a gnawing feeling they were already too late.

* * *

Sam shivered as they approached the house, hunching deeper into his hoody. He tried to tell himself it was the dawn chill, but he knew it had at least as much to do with the sight of the smoke-marred house, windows empty and bare compared to the snugly drawn curtains of its neighbours.

Dean led the way around to the back of the house, picking the lock quickly and silently. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Sam hesitated, glancing over at the neighbouring yard to be sure no early risers were around to observe their entry, but there was no sign of life. He followed his brother into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

The acrid smell that hit them was painfully familiar, though Sam tried to ignore it as they made their way further into the house. He saw Dean register it too; his brother moved one step closer, hand poised by his gun.

Too many bad memories. Sam tried to shake them off, and led the way out into the hall.

The living-room door was standing open; most of the furniture was still in place, with just a few empty spaces to suggest the family had grabbed their most important belongings before leaving.

Dean stalked past the open door and up the stairs, heading for where the smoke damage was worst. He stopped by the door at the head of the stairs, charred frame and peeling paint showing that this was where the fire had started.

Sam followed more hesitantly.

The room must have been the nursery, but there was almost nothing left to show it, save a solitary singed strip of wallpaper next to the door with a discoloured rainbow on it. Most of the furniture was reduced to charred lumps.

They both had years of experience of wandering around in damaged buildings, were good at judging where it was safe to step and where to stand the hell back if they didn't want to fall right through. Sam knew that, structurally, the room was safe.

He still didn't step inside.

Dean exhaled sharply, glanced back at Sam for a second, then headed cautiously into the room. Sam swallowed down his instinctive protest, took a deep, smoke-tinged breath, and followed his brother.

It was clear that the crib had been the focal point of the fire: the rug was charred and melted near the centre of the room, right where the early morning sun shone in. Sam could imagine the family planning the nursery, thinking about the way the sunlight would shine down on their baby.

For a moment, he tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn inevitably to the ceiling, and he had to take another shaky breath.

It was scorched, black with smoke, but it looked sound, not as though it were about to fall in. In fact, it didn't look as badly damaged as the floor where the crib had been.

'Dean,' he said quietly, nodding at it.

Dean followed his gaze. 'Huh. EMF meter says there was definitely _something _in here when that fire started, but... I'm thinking we need to talk to the family.'

'You said they all got out?' Sam asked.

'Yeah,' Dean confirmed, gaze still swinging from the ceiling to the floor and back again. 'Let's get out of here and track them down.'

He headed out of the room, moving fast, without looking back. Sam glanced around once more, then wasted no time in following.

* * *

As it turned out, the Areys weren't too difficult to track down. Dean charmed a local storekeeper into telling him the family was staying with friends, Sam figured out where the friends lived, and they were in with no problems.

Mrs Arey was pale and evidently still shaken up, bandaged hands hugging her arms. 'It's good of you to come,' she said. 'I just can't understand what happened... like I told the other firemen, there was nothing in the room that could have started that fire.'

'That's what we're trying to figure out,' Sam said soothingly. 'Perhaps you could tell us exactly what happened? Any detail might be the clue we need to find out what caused this.'

'It all just happened so fast,' Mrs Arey murmured, staring down at her cup of coffee as if it might hold some answers.

'The fire started at night..?' Dean prompted. 'Were you sleeping?'

'My husband, Gavril - he's at work just now - was sleeping,' she said. 'I got up to feed the baby, and then Jacob - that's our son - woke up wanting a glass of water.'

'What happened then?' Sam asked gently.

'I fed Zach,' she said. 'Everything was normal. There wasn't anything that could have -' She broke off and took a deep breath. 'I tucked him in and started back to bed and - it was just a moment, I didn't even reach the end of the hallway - I turned back, and there were flames -' She was growing increasingly upset, and Sam did his best to soothe her, ignoring Dean's uncomfortable expression.

'And - and then I ran back and it was the crib, the crib was on fire, and I pulled Zach out...'

'You all got out OK, right?' Dean said awkwardly, touching her arm briefly.

'Yes,' she said, an almost-smile flitting across her face. 'Yes, thank goodness - I was so worried about Zach, but the hospital checked him over, the doctors said he was fine. If I hadn't been right there...' She swallowed hard, eyes straying to the crib standing in the corner of the room.

'You were lucky,' Dean said, voice rough. 'You did good, too, keeping your head and getting everyone out of there.'

'Is that...?' Sam asked, nodding towards the crib.

'Yes, Zachary's sleeping,' Mrs Arey said, standing up to check on him nervously.

Sam followed her across the room. He wasn't sure exactly what he had been expecting, whether he'd imagined he'd somehow be able to tell if this was another one of the psychic kids, someone else like him. All he could see was a baby. Tiny and defenceless and sound asleep. A small burn marred the side of his face, but otherwise... 'He's beautiful,' Sam said softly.

Dean stayed on the couch. 'Mrs Arey,' he said. 'I know it's hard, but it's really important we know. Did you notice anything else? See anyone strange, maybe? Smell something, even?'

The doting smile melted from her face and she started fidgeting again. 'What do you mean? Someone - you think someone might have... No, there was no one! Jacob was the only other person awake, and no one could have got into the house.'

Sam had his doubts about that, but kept them to himself. 'And no strange smells? Whatever caused the fire might have -'

'No,' Mrs Arey said emphatically. 'There was nothing like that at all. I would have noticed while I was feeding the baby. I don't understand what... And I don't care what the fire department thinks, there's no way a cigarette could have caused this - we would never allow anyone to smoke in the nursery.'

She paused for a moment, then burst out, 'If anything, it was more like - like spontaneous human combustion, or something.' She flushed as Sam and Dean shared a glance. 'Oh, I know that must sound like nonsense to you, but... the way it came up out of nowhere...'

'We can understand,' Sam said, keeping his voice neutral.

Mrs Arey bent over the crib and tucked the blanket in more securely around the sleeping baby. 'It's like this family's cursed, or something,' she said, almost inaudibly. 'You probably think I'm being silly - I know it's not just us, there've been a lot of little fires around here recently - but... this has been so hard on my husband. Gavril lost his first wife to a fire, and this brings it all back for him. Jacob, too, although of course he was too young to really remember it.'

'Do you think we could talk to Jacob?' Sam asked tentatively. 'Maybe he saw something, or heard something?'

'Oh,' Mrs Arey said, biting her lip, 'I don't know... he's only twelve. Is it really necessary?'

'We'll keep it short,' Dean promised.

Mrs Arey seemed unconvinced, but nodded. 'All right. Just a moment...' She started for the door, then hesitated, looking back at the crib. Finally she stepped into the hallway and called up the stairs, 'Jacob, honey, could you come here a moment?'

Jacob was a skinny, ungainly kid, at the awkward stage between childhood and adolescence. He came down the stairs slowly, clearly unwilling to leave whatever he'd been doing. 'What is it?' he asked abruptly, then stopped as he caught sight of Sam and Dean.

'Jacob, these nice men are from the fire department, and they'd like to ask you a few questions,' Mrs Arey said, glancing at them nervously.

'Hey, Jacob,' Dean said lightly, ignoring the kid's sullen look. 'We were just wondering if you could tell us a little bit about what happened the night of the fire. Maybe you know something that could help us, maybe heard something your mom didn't?'

'She's not my mom,' Jacob said fiercely. 'She's just my stepmom.'

Mrs Arey coloured a little. 'Yes, that's true - but I certainly love you like my own, Jacob.' Her tone was slightly pleading, like this was a conversation she'd had many times before.

'Yeah, sure,' Jacob said, coming down the last few stairs and properly into the room. 'Why are you asking me? I'm sure _Rebecca_'s told you all about it. Who cares what I think?'

'We do,' Dean said firmly. 'Is there anything you can tell us, Jacob?'

Jacob shrugged. 'Zach woke me up with his crying, and then I got a glass of water. I went back to bed, and the next thing I knew _she_ was screaming about a fire.'

'And you didn't see or hear anything unusual?' Sam pressed him.

'Nope.' The kid stared at him defiantly. 'Hard to hear anything over Zach's crying, anyway.'

Sam wasn't entirely satisfied, but it was clear they would get no more information at the moment. 'OK, thanks for your time, Jacob. We appreciate it. If you remember anything else, you be sure to let us know.'

Jacob turned, heading back into the hall.

'Would you like something to eat, honey?' Mrs Arey offered, moving towards him. 'I could make you something...' But Jacob was already running back up the stairs without acknowledging her.

'I'm sorry,' she said, turning back to Sam and Dean. 'He's been a little difficult lately, and the upset of the fire hasn't really improved matters.'

'There's no need to apologise, Mrs Arey,' Sam assured her. 'We know this has been hard for you all.'

'Please, call me Rebecca,' she said, mustering a smile. 'I really appreciate the fact that you're investigating this so thoroughly. I just want to be sure nothing like this happens to my family again.'

'That's what we all want. We'll be sure to get in touch if we have any more information for you,' Sam promised, and shook her hand. Dean followed suit.

'What d'you think?' Sam asked quietly as the door shut behind them.

'I dunno, Sam. It doesn't exactly match up with the other demon attacks,' Dean said doubtfully.

'No,' Sam conceded. 'But there's _something_ weird going on, Dean. Fires don't just start like that for no reason. You really think it's a coincidence that it happened in the nursery?'

Dean shook his head, not arguing. 'Fine. Let's get out of here and see what we can dig up.'

Sam nodded his agreement, following Dean towards the car. As he climbed in, he glanced back at the house and saw Rebecca standing at the window, white-faced. Sam wished he'd been able to dismiss her fear that the family was somehow cursed, but he wasn't so sure she was on the wrong track.

Dean drove in silence, evidently lost in thought. Sam was just as glad to stay quiet: whether the yellow-eyed demon was involved or not, this case was still bringing up plenty of bad associations.

Finally Dean pulled up next to a large brick building and said, 'OK, Sammy, this is your stop.'

Sam stared at him in confusion for a moment before looking up at the building and seeing the sign: Public Library.

'We want the history of that house, Sammy boy. See if any other odd things have 'just happened' there.'

'And you think you're going to get away with sticking me with all the research because...?' Sam asked, donning his best martyred expression.

'C'mon, Sam, I know you're research-boy. Wouldn't want to tread on your toes.' Dean grinned. 'Besides, someone's gotta go talk to the neighbours, and I think we both know who's got the expertise when it comes to chatting to the ladies.'

'Yeah, Dean, you're a real ladykiller,' Sam said sarcastically, but he climbed out of the car. 'Whatever. Call me if you find something, OK?'

'You too, geekboy,' Dean returned blithely. 'Don't get too hot and heavy with the books, now.'

The Impala was pulling away before Sam could do more than roll his eyes in response.

The library was a modern building, large enough for Sam to hope that they would have a good selection of reference materials. He headed inside.

Any lingering resentment he might have felt at being consigned to the desk work yet again was dispelled at the sight of the librarian sitting at the reference desk. 'You picked the wrong gig, Dean,' Sam muttered under his breath, before striding over with a smile on his face.

* * *

Dean wasn't feeling quite so cheerful.

'So, young man, what is it you said you do, again?' Mrs Robinson bellowed across her kitchen table.

'I'm a -' Dean started.

'Speak up, young man!' she said loudly. 'All you young people mumble, these days.'

'I was wondering whether you could tell me about the fire across the road,' Dean said as loudly as he could.

'A terrible thing,' Mrs Robinson said, tutting. 'And with a baby in the house! That young woman, I've no doubt. Probably smoking over the crib or some such. Poor Gavril, hasn't he suffered enough?'

Dean leaned forward, then hastily back again as her overpowering perfume almost made his eyes water. 'You must know the family really well, Mrs Robinson,' he said encouragingly.

'I knew Gavril and Alice well, oh yes. Why, I knew Alice from a child. Her folks have always lived around here; I went to school with Artie, that's her father, you know.'

'Really?' said Dean, hoping he wasn't about to let himself in for a detailed account of Mrs Robinson's high school crush. 'They still have family here, then?'

'Oh no, not any more,' Mrs Robinson said mournfully. 'Artie died a few years back, and he and Grace never did have any other children. Still, most folks around here remember the Dahls. Naturally it was a comfort to Gavril, coming back to live among people who knew Alice.'

'What happened to Alice?' Dean asked. 'I heard she died when the little boy was a baby.'

Mrs Robinson shifted closer, assaulting his nostrils with another wave of sickly-sweet perfume, and patted his knee in what he fervently hoped was supposed to be a motherly fashion. '_Well_. It didn't happen here, you know - the family was out east somewhere at the time - Poland, or Russia, or some such place. So I didn't see it myself. _But_, the way I heard it, there was a fire out there, too.' She nodded her head, gazing meaningfully into his eyes.

Dean swallowed hard. 'That's... that's terrible.'

'Oh, that it is,' Mrs Robinson agreed. 'A tragedy! And for the poor boy to lose his mother so young - he was only a few months old at the time. Terrible. Well, of course, Gavril brought him back here after that. Broken up, Gavril was, losing Alice like that. He did his best to cope, for Jacob's sake, but a boy that young needs his mother, you know.'

Dean took a deep breath. 'Yeah,' he replied, chalking up the slight waver in his voice to the perfume. 'Yeah, I know. So Gavril remarried?'

'Well, not right away, of course,' Mrs Robinson confided. 'After Alice... no, he only met that young hussy of his a few years back. The wedding wasn't until last year.' She pursed her lips. 'It was lucky for her she didn't start showing until a month or so after, or she'd have ruined the lines of that fancy white dress of hers.'

'Mm,' Dean said, as neutrally as possible. 'You, er - you don't seem too fond of Mrs Arey, or, I should say, the new Mrs Arey...?' He trailed off, pretty sure that she wouldn't require any more encouragement than that.

Mrs Robinson sniffed. 'Well, I'm sure I'm not the kind of person to speak ill of her neighbours...'

'Of course not,' Dean agreed instantly, unable to entirely suppress his grin.

Mrs Robinson fixed him with a stern glare. 'It is no smiling matter, young man. She's a cruel and abusive woman, I'll have you know.'

Dean's eyes widened. 'Abusive?'

'Oh yes,' Mrs Robinson said, looking pleased to have gotten a reaction. 'My Tiddles - that's my cat -' She gestured towards a bundle of grey fur purring in the corner. 'I saw her kick him! Now, I don't care how many grocery bags you're carrying, there's no excuse for cruelty to animals! And as for how she treats young Jacob, well! Anyone can see the poor boy's miserable.'

'It must be hard for him, having a new stepmom,' Dean suggested.

'And a woman like that, as well,' Mrs Robinson said, shaking her head.

_You'd think Rebecca was running some kind of crack den_, Dean thought privately, and schooled his face into attentiveness as she continued. 'I don't know what Gavril was thinking, really I don't. Alice must be spinning in her grave, rest her soul.'

There was no non-suspicious way to ask the next question. Dean bit his lip. 'Where, uh, would that be exactly? Her grave?' At her look, he rushed on, 'I mean, it must be hard for them, if she's buried out east. It must be hard, not being able to visit her grave. I imagine.'

'They brought her ashes home,' Mrs Robinson said solemnly. 'Oh, Gavril did right by her, no fear of that. He wouldn't have abandoned her in some foreign country.'

Dean thought about pressing her for more information, but he figured he'd heard about as much as she knew. Besides, the overpowering scent of her perfume had now been augmented by an even more powerful stench, which he suspected was coming from the pile of rancid fur she'd referred to as Tiddles.

'Well,' he said, glancing at the clock, 'I'm afraid I'd better be going.' He raised his cup, and decided he was definitely entitled to _one_ joke, under the circumstances. 'Here's to you, Mrs Robinson,' he said as smoothly as he could, not cracking a smile, and downed the last of his horribly weak coffee. 'Thanks for all your help.'

Mrs Robinson beamed at him. 'Such a polite young man.'

She followed him to the door, almost treading on his heels. 'You feel free to come back any time, dear,' she said. Before Dean knew what was happening, her somewhat terrifying cleavage was right under his nose - wafts of the hideous scent drifting up from it - and he was being treated to an extremely moist kiss on the cheek. He tried to pull away, but she had him cornered next to the door jamb, and she delivered a second smacker, perilously close to his mouth, before - oh god - _pinching his cheek_ so hard that he thought she'd twist it right off.

Dean pulled away and staggered out of the door, getting out of range as quickly as he could. Mrs Robinson beamed at him again and gave him a little wave.

He made for the safety of the Impala as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

* * *

Dean was not particularly surprised to find Sam surrounded by piles of books and papers when he reached the library. What _was_ a surprise, however, was the _extremely_ hot chick who was bent over them with him.

He scrubbed again at his cheek as he approached them. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to obliterate the sensation of old-lady slaver. And it was quite possible his skin had been permanently dyed that shade of off-pink.

'Let me know if there's anything else at all I can do for you,' the hot chick was saying to Sam as Dean drew up next to him.

'Sorry, sweetheart,' Dean said. 'Sammy here's got work to do.'

Sam shot him an irritated look. 'Yeah, Dean, _research_. Which Ms Garner has been assisting me with, as she's a highly trained _librarian_.'

Dean quailed slightly beneath the force of their combined glares. 'Sorry, dude,' he muttered.

The librarian's glare softened only slightly when Dean tried his best charming grin on her. She turned back to Sam, breaking out in smiles once more. 'I'll just be over by the reference desk - give me a call if you need anything else.'

'Thank you, you've been a great help,' Sam said warmly, turning his full-force smile on her. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

'You get anything done besides chatting up the hot chicks?' he asked once he was sure the librarian was out of earshot.

Sam raised his eyebrows, gaze dropping meaningfully to a spot beside Dean's mouth. 'Well, clearly I wasn't quite as successful at that as you've evidently been...'

Dean cringed and swiped at the spot.

'But yes,' Sam continued, 'with Ms Garner's help, I managed to find a lot of records about the house. And a bit more about the family, too. The father, Gavril Arey, is quite a well-known local businessman. He made a fair amount of money in the former Soviet bloc after the Iron Curtain fell - spent some time out there in the mid-nineties, apparently.'

'Yeah, I heard as much. Until the wife was killed, right? In another fire.'

'Yes. But it wasn't just another fire, Dean,' Sam said. 'According to the newspaper report I found, it happened when Jacob was six months old. Gavril wasn't home at the time, so it's not too clear how it happened, but Alice was killed and Jacob somehow survived.'

Dean stared at him, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'Six months, huh.'

Man, days like this sucked out loud.

* * *

Judging by the way Dean's morning was going, this entire _gig_ was going to suck.

'Dean, it _has_ to be the demon,' Sam insisted. 'House fire, six months old, only the kid survived - it'd be a hell of a coincidence if it was something else.'

'Yeah, well, Sammy, it'd be a helluva coincidence if it _wasn't_. Maybe the first fire out in Russia could fit the pattern, but the new one doesn't. Why was the fire in the wrong place, for a start? And why's sweet Rebecca still alive for her neighbours to tut over?'

Sam gave a frustrated sigh. 'You don't seriously believe that, do you? The fire starts six feet away from where we expect, the mother has a lucky escape, and you think that rules out the demon?'

Dean paced from one side of the motel room to the other and back again. 'We went through all this last night, Sam. Several times. You're looking at this like it fits the pattern, but it _doesn't_. There's gotta be plenty of other things this could be that'd make more sense.'

'Oh, yeah,' Sam agreed sarcastically. 'We run into house fires survived by six-month-old kids all the time. Dean, why the hell are you refusing to consider this?'

'Dude, you're the one refusing to consider the options,' Dean said, swinging round to face him. 'You're desperate to see something that isn't there, Sammy.'

'Or maybe you're desperate not to see something that is,' Sam shot back.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before looking away.

'Look, OK, we'll do some more research, see if we can come up with any other options,' Sam offered. 'But Dean, we have to at least consider the possibility that we're dealing with the demon, here. Bobby was obviously thinking that way, otherwise he would have just taken this one himself.'

'He's working another gig,' Dean pointed out with exaggerated patience. 'Which sucks, 'cause we could really stand to talk to him, see if he knows of any _other_ things might be able to cause fires like this.'

'We could call Joshua,' Sam suggested suddenly. 'He lives pretty near here, doesn't he? And he's got a ton of stuff on unexplained phenomena, probably more than Bobby, even. He was a lot of help last year, back when...'

Sam trailed off, but Dean didn't need to hear the words. _Back when you were dying_.

'_Help_, right,' Dean said tightly. 'Look, the first thing we need to do is find out more about both of these fires, figure out if there's a connection. You hit the books, I'm gonna check out the house again.'

'As long as it _is_ the house you're checking out,' Sam said, his mouth twisting up in a tentative smile, apology unspoken but all the more real for that.

'Bitch,' Dean said, relaxing a little and scrubbing reflexively at the side of his mouth. He realised what he was doing and dropped his hand. God, he swore he could still feel it. 'On second thought, maybe I should take the library. Don't want you getting distracted by your little friend there.'

Sam grabbed his notebook, riffling meaningfully through the pile of xeroxes the librarian had given him. 'Nice try, Dean, but I think _you're_ the one who has a problem with distractions. I'm book boy, remember.' He started to head out of the room, but paused in the doorway and turned back to Dean. 'D'you want me to call Joshua, or are you gonna do it?'

Dean shifted awkwardly. 'Let's not drag him into this unless we have to, OK?' He'd been uneasy about getting tangled up with other hunters since the whole thing with Gordon - man, Hendrickson could _have_ that bastard. But the death and destruction Meg had left in her wake had left him downright paranoid about it, even before Bobby's thinly coded warning about Wandell's buddies.

'This could turn out to be something simple, and I don't want another hunter cluttering up the field if we can avoid it,' he said instead. Which was true, anyway, as far as it went. He wasn't about to get into that other shit with Sam, who was only just starting to relax again and lose the pinched look that possession mind-fuck had left him with.

Sam looked unconvinced, but didn't press the point. 'Whatever, your call. We can always get in touch with him later, if we need to.'

'Right,' Dean agreed, trying not to look too relieved. Then a thought occurred to him. 'So... that mean it's my call who gets the hot chick, too?'

Sam thwapped him on the arm as they headed out.

* * *

Dean took his time checking over the house, looking for any evidence that might give them a better lead. Apart from the EMF readings, though, the nursery yielded nothing.

He knew Sam was pretty convinced that they were dealing with the yellow-eyed demon, but he was sure this was something else. _Had _to be, because why would the pattern change all of a sudden?

He drove back slowly, still chewing over the possibilities. Rounding a corner, he spotted a kid half-heartedly bouncing a basketball up against the wall of a store. As he drew closer, he realised it was Jacob.

He pulled the car over and headed into the store, grabbing a bag of chips and edging past an old guy peering at the range of candies to get to the cashier. It was an effort not to hurry back out, but he forced himself to slow down as he passed through the double doors. Sauntering back to the Impala, he pretended to notice Jacob for the first time.

'Hey, Jacob, right?'

The kid cast an indifferent look in his direction before focusing on his basketball again.

'You're pretty good with that thing,' Dean observed after a moment.

Jacob shrugged. 'Got nothing better to do.'

'No school today?' Dean asked. 'Not that I'm saying school's something better to do. I could almost always find something better to do than school.'

'Dad said I should stay home for a few days,' Jacob said without looking up. 'While things get sorted out.'

'And you felt like getting out of the house and away from your stepmom for a while,' Dean observed.

The kid looked up and gave a wry little grin. 'Yeah, how'd you guess?'

Dean laughed. 'Kinda hard to miss. I guess some people just take each other the wrong way, huh?'

Jacob looked a little embarrassed. 'We used to get along OK, but since she got married to Dad... she tries to be my _mom_, you know?'

'And no one can take your mom's place,' Dean said softly.

Jacob was studying the ball fiercely. 'It - she's got Zach. She's _Zach's_ mom. She loves him, you know? And Dad does too. They were so happy to have a kid of their own. It's not the same. It's not even like I expect it to be the same, but she keeps on trying to pretend it is. It's not fair.'

'She does seem like she cares about you, though,' Dean ventured.

'Yeah, I know,' Jacob admitted, looking down at the ground. 'It wasn't my room she ran to when the house was burning down, though, was it?'

'What happened, exactly?' Dean asked cautiously.

Jacob shrugged. 'Zach was screaming again, woke me up. So I went to get a drink of water, and when I came back up the stairs...' He bounced the ball sharply off the wall and caught it. 'She ran straight for Zach, and Dad ran straight to her. He grabbed me on the way out, but it was Zach they were worried about.'

'The fire _was _in Zach's room,' Dean pointed out gently.

Jacob flushed and looked away, scuffing a sneaker into the dirt. 'Yeah, I know. I'm not a kid, I could get out on my own and all. It's just -'

'Just sometimes you don't wanna be the big brother?'

Jacob's cheeks flushed darker. 'Yeah, I guess. Dumb, I know.'

Dean gave a short laugh. 'Not dumb, kiddo. Sometimes baby brothers are a helluva pain in the ass. But sometimes they're kind of worth it.'

Jacob looked down at the basketball, turning it over and over. 'I guess.' He didn't sound entirely convinced, but Dean let it go.

'You want a ride home?' he offered. 'Or are you going to stay out here a bit longer?'

'I'm not going back yet,' Jacob said at once. He gave the Impala another look. 'Cool ride, though.'

'Thanks,' Dean said. Kid had taste. 'See you around, Jacob.'

Jacob gave a small smile. 'Yeah, see you.'

Dean slid into the car. He wasn't sure he'd gotten any useful information from the conversation, but he was reluctant to call it a waste of time, either. At least the poor kid had gotten a chance to talk to someone.

He glanced at his watch, suddenly realising what time it was. Better head on back to the library, or Sam would start making insinuations again. Insinuations that would do _nothing_ for his appetite.

* * *

'So,' Dean said as Sam got in the passenger side, 'did you get lucky?' Offence was the best form of defence, after all.

'I couldn't find anything else about the fire,' Sam replied, sounding frustrated.

Dean grinned. 'Too distracted, huh?'

'What?' Sam shot him a confused glance that melted into a glare. 'No, Dean, I didn't get lucky. In any sense of the phrase.'

'Dude, did I teach you nothing?' Dean heaved a dramatic sigh. 'I guess it's not your fault I'm the only one with any inborn charm.'

Sam snorted. 'Yeah, right. How about you, did you turn up anything?'

'Nothing in the house. But I'm still pretty sure it's not the demon we're dealing with here, man. It just doesn't feel the same.' Dean saw a look of incredulity on Sam's face and hurried on before his brother could interrupt. 'I did talk to Jacob on his own, though... seems like Rebecca's attempts at happy families aren't sitting too well with him.' He spotted a diner up ahead and pulled the Impala over into a parking space.

'Not exactly the Bradys?' Sam asked.

'I wouldn't say that,' Dean replied. 'But, well, his stepmom's got her own little boy now. I guess it's bound to mess with the kid's head a bit.'

'She seemed like she genuinely cares about him, though,' Sam objected. 'Or she would if he'd give her the chance, anyway. I don't get how he can't see that.'

'Yeah, well. I guess people don't always read each other right, when it comes to families,' Dean said quietly.

Sam looked at him, and Dean was thankful for the interruption when his stomach growled. 'C'mon, Sammy, there's a burger with my name on it. This gig's hungry work for those of us who don't spend their time chatting up hot librarians.'

Sam rolled his eyes, but followed him into the diner.

The waitress who took their order was almost hot enough to distract Dean from thinking about the library chick. More importantly, there _was_ a burger. And fries. And a helping of pie, once Dean gave Sam a demonstration of how the Winchester charm was _supposed_ to work.

Sam refused dessert in favour of coffee and stole mouthfuls of pie every time Dean turned his attention to the waitress. In the end, Dean was forced to smack his hand away and concentrate more on defending the remains of his pie. 'So what next?' he asked around a mouthful, hoping to distract Sam's attention away from his dessert.

'Well, like I said, I didn't turn up much in the library,' Sam said. 'And if the house was a bust, and Jacob didn't tell you anything new - apart from the fact that he's got a bad case of teenage blues a year too early - then we're going to have to look elsewhere. I know you're not crazy about the idea, Dean, but I think we should call Joshua.'

Dean pushed away his plate, his appetite suddenly vanishing. 'C'mon, Sam, we can't just give up like that. What's Joshua going to know about this that we haven't already found out?'

'We don't know, Dean, that's the point. He only lives a few towns away, so he could have been tracking a pattern in this area for years, for all we know. And he knows a lot of esoteric stuff, even Dad said he was the best when it came to the real scholarly part of the job.'

Dean fiddled with his napkin, ripping it into thin shreds. 'I still don't think we should bring someone else in on this unless we have to, Sam.'

'I think we have to, Dean,' Sam argued, leaning forward. 'We're at a dead end here.'

'Yeah, well, I don't think Joshua's the right person. We don't even know that this is scholarly stuff, and what if he takes it into his head to come over here? If it turns out not to be the kind of thing words and paper will deal with, he's liable to get himself killed. He's an old guy, Sam, too old.'

Sam regarded him silently for a long moment. 'Bullshit.'

Dean glanced up at him in surprise, then looked away. 'Sam -'

'Bull. Shit,' Sam repeated. 'Look, Dean, I get why you're not happy with the idea. But Joshua had no way of knowing how LeGrange's healing worked. And it saved your _life_.'

'That's not my issue with it,' Dean said, wanting to kick himself the second the words were out of his mouth. Better to let Sam think that than to get into his _real_ reasons.

'Then _what_, Dean? I swear, I -' Sam broke off suddenly, turning towards the waitress at the counter. 'Could you turn that up, please?'

The waitress obligingly raised the volume on the transistor radio she had sitting by the cash desk. _...the fire was discovered on the grounds of St Anselm's Episcopal Church before it had fully taken hold... _

They were both on their feet before the report had even finished. Dean thrust some money at the waitress. 'Thanks sweetheart, keep the change. Let's go, Sammy.'


	2. Chapter 2

There were a couple of fire trucks standing outside the church when they pulled up, people milling around and rubber-necking, but there wasn't much sign of damage as far as they could see. Dean parked as close to the church as he could get, cursing the mass of people milling around on the road. There were a couple of fire trucks standing outside the building, and a handful of anxious-looking parents fussing over their kids, but he couldn't see any sign of an actual fire.

He and Sam pushed their way through the gaggle of kids gossiping by a side door and slipped into the church. From the snippets of conversation he caught as he passed, Dean gathered that they were mostly speculating over whether there had even _been_ a fire. So much for the possibility they might have seen something useful.

The inside of the church was dark and quiet, and Dean was confused for a moment by the lack of firefighters or any other sign of activity. Then he noticed a door off to one side, with a sign saying: St Anselm's Community Center. He nudged Sam and headed that way.

This part of the building was as quiet as the church, but it was obvious that people had cleared out in a hurry. Coats and bags had been left in some of the small side rooms, and Dean glimpsed a bake sale laid out on a table in the foyer. There still didn't seem to be much in the way of damage, but the acrid scent of smoke pervaded everything, and voices issued from further down the hallway. They followed the sound, and finally found themselves in a large gym.

This was evidently the scene of the fire, judging by the scorch marks running across the floor and up one wall, where the charred remains of tennis nets were dangling forlornly. The excitement appeared to be over now, though: several firefighters were packing away their equipment, while one talked to a small group of boys in their early teens. The boys were pale and unnaturally quiet, and as Dean and Sam watched, the firefighter nodded and sent them on their way. The boys scattered in the direction of the locker rooms, except for one, who moved back over towards the part of the room where the fire had been. The kid toed one of the burn marks, head down and face troubled.

Sam moved over to stand by him, slouching and casual. Dean followed slowly, marvelling at his brother's ability to make himself look so damn _small_. He pulled out the EMF meter, angling his body to keep anyone from seeing it. The reading was faint but definite.

_Huh_.

'You doing OK?' he heard Sam ask.

The kid shrugged, eyes still on the burn marks.

'Kind of a shock, I guess, finding the fire like that?' Sam offered. The kid's head snapped up, sharp and indignant.

'I didn't find it!' he said. 'It found me - it was trying to _get_ me. That's what was a _shock_.' His tone was defensive, and Dean could tell he was already tired of telling disbelieving adults about it, was probably even starting to doubt it himself.

Sam kept his cool, voice calm and steady. 'What d'you mean, trying to get you? Did someone set a fire on purpose? Throw gasoline, something like that?'

The kid was getting twitchy, and Sam's question clearly upset him further. 'He didn't _need_ gasoline! He didn't - I don't know how he did it, but he - I always knew he was a freak, course we didn't want to play basketball with him, freak like that -'

_Basketball_. Dean had never really been a big believer in coincidence. He tucked the EMF meter back in his pocket and moved closer.

Sam was being as soothing as he could. 'Who was it? Another kid started the fire?'

'That freaky Arey kid,' the boy snarled, hovering between tears and fury. 'Always hanging around, pushing in where he's not wanted - I told him to get lost, I _told_ him to leave us alone - none of us wanted him here, who'd want a freak like him hanging around? And then - the fire, it just - _fuck_.'

'It just started?' Sam asked, not touching on anything else right then. 'You said it came right for you?'

'He threw his basketball at me,' the boy said, and Dean could see him shaking a little now. 'He threw it and it just - it caught on fire, all at once, just - I know things like that don't happen, but it _did_. I jumped back and it hit the nets on the wall and they caught and... Then there were people everywhere and he was gone, but it was him, I _know_ he did it, I don't know how, but he did.'

'This is Jacob Arey, right?' Dean asked, unable to keep silent any longer.

'Yeah,' the kid said, obviously startled. 'Did he - did someone say something to you?'

'Nope,' said Dean. 'Just - you might wanna think twice before calling people freaks in future, kiddo. C'mon, Sam, I think we're done here.' He turned away before Sam could respond, shouldering through a fire door and out into the fresh air.

Sam followed him a couple of minutes later. 'What the hell, Dean? You nearly took his head off in there.'

'We haven't got time to mess around, Sam,' Dean said, heading back towards the car. 'Besides, I meant what I said. The kid was picking on Jacob - he got what was coming to him, that's all.'

Sam gaped at him for a moment. 'What he _got_was a flaming basketball to the head, Dean.'

Dean winced slightly. 'Yeah, well. If it had to happen, kid might as well learn something from it.' He reached the Impala and climbed in. Sam slid into the passenger seat and opened his mouth to pursue the argument, but Dean cut him off. 'Anyway, looks like the demon theory's out. This sure as hell ain't a nursery fire.'

'It's sure as hell got something to do with the Areys, though,' Sam said.

'Yeah, it has.' Dean bit his lip. 'I think it's time we spoke to _Mr_ Arey, don't you?'

'You think he might know what's going on?' Sam asked doubtfully. 'It's centred around Jacob, that much is obvious.'

'I'm not sayin' Jacob's not mixed up in it somehow,' Dean conceded. 'But the kid doesn't know anything, Sam. Maybe the dad does.'

'OK,' Sam agreed. 'But Dean -'

'What?' Dean asked.

'Nothing, just - let's talk to Gavril.'

* * *

Gavril's office was guarded by an extremely surly, tight-lipped secretary.

'Do you have an appointment with Mr Arey?' he snapped. 'Because if you haven't, I'm afraid you could be waiting a considerable time.' He looked Dean up and down with an expression which intimated that it was unlikely they'd be able to afford Mr Arey's services even when they did become available.

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam stood on his foot and moved forward, smiling his best college-boy smile.

'I'm afraid we don't, but perhaps you could see if he has a moment in his schedule. It's important that we speak to him today.'

The secretary seemed highly sceptical, giving the schedule only the most cursory of glances. 'I'm afraid that's quite impos-'

'Tell him it's about his son,' Dean said, his voice unflinching. 'And ask him to _find_ the time to see us today.'

For a moment it seemed as though the guy was about to argue further, but he took another look at Dean's face and hastily picked up the phone.

'Sorry to disturb you, Mr Arey. There are two - ahem - gentlemen asking to see you regarding your son.' There was a pause as he listened. 'No... all right.' He hung up. 'Take a seat. Mr Arey has agreed to see you shortly.'

'Shortly' turned out to involve half an hour of cooling their heels, and Dean was beyond pissed by the time they were ushered into the office. Which was perhaps just as well, as Gavril Arey seemed far from welcoming himself.

'Would you gentlemen mind telling me why you're here?' he asked, straight to the point. 'Have you had yet another complaint from our neighbour?'

'Neighbour?' Sam enquired, exchanging a perplexed glance with Dean.

'Mrs Robinson has made something of a habit of contacting the authorities with wild tales,' Gavril said dismissively, settling behind his desk. 'She's getting older, and it shows. No? Then why don't you tell me why you _are_ here.'

'We'd like to talk about your son Jacob,' Dean began.

'We're from the church,' Sam put in smoothly. 'Perhaps you haven't heard, Mr Arey, but there was a fire today.' Gavril blanched, and Sam continued hastily, 'Jacob wasn't hurt, don't worry. It was very minor.'

'Then why are you here?' Gavril demanded, fear giving way to belligerence.

'Your son was apparently involved in something of an incident,' Sam said. 'We're concerned that he's being bullied, Mr Arey. And we understand he's had a few problems, recently.'

'Problems?' Gavril said, sounding taken aback. 'I don't think - Jacob's at a difficult age right now. And I imagine you heard about the fire at our home - that was traumatic for us all. But I'd hardly say...' He paused. 'He was being bullied? At the church?'

'We're not quite certain,' Sam temporised. 'But the incident caused us some concern, which is why we wanted to speak with you.'

'His teachers haven't mentioned any bullying,' Gavril objected.

Dean raised his eyebrows sceptically, and the man considered for a moment. 'Although there are more kids at this new school, I suppose... the faculty at his elementary school knew them all so well, I never had any concerns before.'

'And Jacob hasn't mentioned any problems to you?' Sam prompted.

'No.' Gavril met his gaze for a moment, then looked down at his desk. 'But he probably wouldn't,' he admitted. 'He... he barely speaks to me at all, lately. We used to be close, but in the last year or two... he's just so difficult. I can't understand it.'

Sam gave a sympathetic smile. 'Things at home are a bit difficult at the moment?'

'Ever since my wife and I married, he's been a problem. I thought things might improve when Rebecca got pregnant - Jacob always hated being an only child - but he barely acknowledges his baby brother. He's rude to me, he's openly hostile to her - I don't know what went wrong. When we first met, he loved Rebecca, and god knows she loves him. I guess we're just getting the stormy adolescence a little early.' Gavril smiled ruefully.

'Those can be difficult years,' Dean agreed, not looking anywhere near Sam. 'And Jacob's mother is... not in the picture?' Damned if he could find a tactful way to put it.

Gavril paled. 'Alice... we lost her when Jacob was just a baby. I... was lucky not to lose him too, in fact.'

'I'm sorry,' Sam murmured, with more tact than Dean could muster. 'That must have been very difficult for you.'

'Losing Alice was like...' Gavril trailed off. 'It's not something that can be described. It was a fire. The firefighters couldn't reach her in time. One of them made it into the nursery, managed to get Jacob out of there somehow. I still don't know how - the whole house was in flames. God, when I think of how close we came to losing _Zach_, and that fire was tiny in comparison...'

'Was Jacob badly burned?' Dean asked.

'You wouldn't think so, would you, looking at him now?' Gavril said. 'But the doctors said he'd be scarred for life, if he even survived the smoke inhalation. They were all amazed by how quickly he healed.'

'It sounds like he was very lucky,' Sam said quietly.

'Yes,' Gavril agreed. 'The fireman who carried him out died, right after. His colleagues said he'd been a lucky one, survived more blazes than any man had a right to. I guess maybe he passed his good fortune on to my son. Jacob surviving, recovering... it was like a miracle. I'm still grateful, every day. Even if,' he added, smiling ruefully, 'he seems to be causing nothing but trouble these days.'

'See, that's the thing,' Dean broke in. 'I get the impression Jacob doesn't feel too lucky. When I spoke to him, it sounded like he thinks you don't care too much about what happens to him.'

Gavril stared at him, openly shocked. 'I... he's my _son_. Of course I - why would he even think that?'

Dean shrugged a little. 'New wife, new baby... new family. Gotta be hard for the kid right now. I guess he's feeling - unwanted. Unloved.'

'Unloved? But I, we -' Gavril drew in a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, I must seem like a fool to you. It's practically textbook, isn't it? Still, it seemed so perfect - a real family for us both after all these years alone. Rebecca and I are so happy; it never even occurred to me that Jacob didn't feel the same way.'

'It's something you might want to think about,' Dean said bluntly.

Gavril nodded slowly. 'I'm glad you gentlemen came to speak to me - it's good to know that not everyone in this community thinks social services should be the first to hear about family problems. You came from the church, you said?'

'Yeah,' Dean said. 'We - uh - we run a youth group over there.'

Gavril paused for a moment, then stiffened, scrutinising them both. 'Except... you didn't come just out of the goodness of your hearts, did you?' he said slowly. 'A fire at the church, that's what you said. And you think Jacob's problems are somehow connected... you think he _set_ that fire.'

'There may be some connection,' Sam said, obviously picking his words carefully.

_Watch it, Sammy_, Dean thought. This wasn't exactly the kind of conversation he'd planned on them having.

'A fire at your home, then the one at the church - and the boy we spoke to did seem to feel that Jacob was involved somehow. But -' Sam rushed on quickly, as anger began to rise in Gavril's face, '- we're not accusing him of anything. It's possible Jacob is doing something unconsciously, reacting to things which have upset him. After all, fire has played a big role in his life; it's not entirely surprising that he should feel drawn to it.'

'Doing something unconsciously,' Gavril repeated in disbelief. 'Lighting fires _unconsciously_. I don't know what you're trying to do here, whether you're really bad liars or just _insane_, but I don't want to hear any more. Get out of here, and stay away from my family.'

Dean opened his mouth to speak. 'Get _out_,' Gavril repeated, and Dean snapped it shut again, backing out of the office before the guy decided that it would be a good idea to call the police.

* * *

'Nice move, Sam,' Dean muttered as they strode past the receptionist, who looked openly smug at their ignominious ejection from Gavril's office. 'Tell the guy we think his kid's an arsonist, that's bound to go down well.'

'I didn't say he was doing it deliberately,' Sam replied in an undertone. 'And I didn't see you jumping in with any great alternatives there. A _youth group_, Dean? Seriously?'

'I could run a youth group,' Dean said in an aggrieved tone. 'I got enough experience dealing with your troubled teens, dude.'

Sam rolled his eyes as they finally emerged from the office block. 'Whatever you say. Speaking of troubled teens, maybe we should go check on Jacob Arey before he sets fire to someone else?'

'Whoa, whoa. Who says he's the one causing the fires?' Dean said, coming to an abrupt halt.

'Dean, come on.' Sam looked at his brother incredulously. 'All the fires have been centred around him, every single one. House burns down, he gets out unscathed. The kid gets jealous of his new baby brother and the next thing the crib's on fire.'

'Yeah, but -' Dean started.

'Some mean kid picks on him and basketballs start spontaneously combusting,' Sam continued relentlessly. 'I don't like it any more than you do, man, but there's a bit of a pattern here.'

'I'm not saying there's no pattern, Sam,' Dean broke in. 'But it's a bit of a jump to say he's the one _causing_ this shit. He could be the target here, for all we know.'

'He's had a hell of a lot of lucky escapes, if he is,' Sam said sceptically.

'Maybe.' Dean frowned, rubbing at the back of his neck. 'But Sam, I spoke to him - he didn't come across as the Damien type. Bit of a brat, maybe, but no more so than you were. He's not running around setting people on fire.'

'Well, either way, we need to figure out what the cause is,' Sam said, letting that argument drop for the time being.

'Plenty things it could be,' Dean said, shrugging. 'Maybe he's cursed. Maybe he's being haunted. Or... maybe the fire at the church _doesn't_ rule out the yellow-eyed demon theory.'

'What, you think the demon caused the first fire, out in Russia?' Sam asked. 'That Jacob's one of the other psychics?'

'Could be,' Dean said. 'Which would mean it _is_ him causing the fires - though if so, he's got no idea he's doing it, Sam.'

'Maybe.' Sam bit his lip thoughtfully. He guessed it was possible, but... 'No, you said it yourself, Dean. This just doesn't have the same feel to it.'

'Who's ignoring the pattern now?' Dean demanded. 'Kid's mother burns up in a nursery fire. Now weird things are happening around him, things he can't control. We can't just ignore it, Sam. He could be one of them.'

Sam shook his head. 'I'm not buying it, Dean. There's too much that doesn't fit. Sure, we can check out that angle too, but I think this is something else.'

The twist of Dean's mouth told Sam he wasn't convinced, but he seemed ready to let it go for now. 'Fine. You check it out, see what else you can come up with. I'll go find the kid, make sure he's OK.'

Sam nodded reluctantly, and Dean turned to get into the car. Before he could climb in, Sam caught at his shoulder, and Dean turned back. 'What? Don't tell me you're wanting a ride the whole block and a half to the library.'

'I'm not the one who's in love with the damn car.' Sam let his hand fall, but didn't move back from his brother. He was still far from sure Jacob wasn't capable of doing some damage on purpose. 'Just - be careful, Dean.'

'Whatever.' Dean punched Sam's shoulder softly. ' _You_ be careful, dude. There's no way a librarian can be that hot without working some kind of mojo.'

Sam snorted, amused despite himself, and started in the direction of the library.

* * *

The librarian at the reference desk brightened as Sam entered the library, smiling over at him, but he headed over to a quiet corner without fully registering her presence. He flipped open his laptop and logged onto the wireless network, already thinking through which sites might be of help.

Aside from the possibility that Jacob was one of the psychic kids - which Sam was still far from convinced by - there were plenty of ways in which he could be causing the fires. Almost every tradition had stories of people with control over the elements. Beyond that, though, the lore was sketchy. Most of the accounts were heavy on the 'all-powerful' epithets and pretty much lacking in any actual explanations. After reading through the twentieth more-or-less identical webpage, Sam decided maybe it was better to rule out the other possibilities before looking further.

Of the other ideas Dean had suggested, a curse made the most sense to Sam. He started a new search, looking for curses which involved fire. There were quite a few, but there seemed to be little evidence that any of them could be involved here, since none of the fires had hurt Jacob himself. Besides, there was no obvious reason for anyone to have placed a curse on the kid. Even if he was a bit of a brat. Of course, it was possible that if there was a curse, it had originated in Russia, but he'd never heard of a curse which lay dormant for ten years after its first attack. Once curses took hold they usually kept going until the target was destroyed.

No, the long gap between the first and second fires fitted much better with the demon theory, Dean was right about that much. The problem was that there were so many other circumstances which just didn't quite fit. Sam understood why Dean was suddenly so focused on the idea that Jacob was one of the psychics, but he thought his brother was grasping at straws. Still, it was worth looking into, so he started trying to dig up information on the first fire, out in Russia.

With the new information they'd gotten from Gavril, it was relatively easy to find Alice Arey's obituary, and a news article on the family tragedy from when they'd returned to the States. It seemed Alice's family had been pretty well-known in the area. Sam browsed back through the archive to see if there were any reports of strange things happening to them, and hit upon a birth announcement for Jacob. He stared at it, then checked back through the information he'd found earlier and compared it to the date of the fire.

Jacob had been nearly seven months old by the time his mother died.

Sam exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. Well, that ruled that out. He wasn't entirely sure whether he was relieved or disappointed.

They were still left with the question of what the hell _was_ going on, though.

Sam rubbed at the bridge of his nose and started digging a little deeper. It was pretty difficult to get any more information on the fire itself - most of the news reports were in Russian, which had been mysteriously lacking in his education - but he did manage to find an expatriates' group where someone had started a thread sending good wishes to the family. The discussion stretched on for several pages, mostly brief messages offering up prayers and commenting on the tragedy, but about halfway in a newcomer's query led to some more general details about the fire.

Sam sighed and settled down to comb through the gossip for any scraps of real information.

What _was_ interesting was that the fire had apparently started in the nursery, while the remains of Alice Arey's body had been found in a bedroom nearby. And yet it had been too late to save her, whereas one of the firemen had been able to reach Jacob in the nursery - at the very heart of the fire - and get him out.

It wasn't impossible, but it was a little odd.

Then there was a comment from an eyewitness about how badly injured the baby had been when the fireman had brought him out - in fact, she had thought Jacob was dead, and was shocked to hear that he had survived and made a 'miraculous recovery' in the hospital.

Sam wasn't quite sure where this was going, but he was starting to get a very bad feeling about it.

He checked through a few more sites, looking for anything else which might offer a clue to what they were dealing with, but came up with nothing. He closed down the laptop and headed on outside, digging his cell out from the pocket of his backpack. Whatever Dean might think about involving someone else, they definitely needed some backup on this one.

He hit the speed dial for Bobby, but was not entirely surprised when it went straight to his voicemail. _Probably still in the middle of his hunt_.

Sam sighed and bit his lip, then dialled Joshua's number.

* * *

Dean set out towards the house where the Areys were staying, but halfway there he realised he was on the wrong track. Judging by Jacob's words that morning, it wasn't likely the kid would be home at this time. Besides, after the way they'd pissed Gavril off, he wasn't too keen on taking the risk that the guy might show up at home unexpectedly. The store was a possibility, although Dean had a feeling that basketball practice wasn't exactly high on Jacob's list of soothing hobbies at the moment. Still, it was a place to start, at least.

When Dean drove past the store, however, the spot where Jacob had been bouncing his basketball earlier was empty. He swore under his breath and drove on slowly, trying to figure out where else to look. There had to be a thousand places where a kid might run when he was upset, and while Dean had always had an instinct for knowing where Sam would run, he didn't know Jacob that well yet.

He tapped his hands against the wheel and tried to think. The kid was upset; he probably wouldn't want to deal with his stepmom, even if he did want to go home and hide -

Home. His _real_ home.

Dean turned the Impala around and headed back in the other direction.

When he got to the house, he thought at first that his instincts had been wrong. It still seemed shut up, the front door closed and locked. When he went around to the back of the house, though, he found the door standing ajar. He slipped inside before Mrs Robinson, or any other nosy neighbours, had a chance to notice him.

The house was quiet. Dean made his way through it as silently as possible, not wanting to alarm the kid if he was hiding somewhere. He had a good idea where he probably was, however.

Sure enough, Dean reached the top of the stairs and caught sight of Jacob huddled on the bed in his bedroom.

Dean approached quietly and stood in the doorway, unsure of what to say. In the end he settled for the obvious. 'Hey, Jacob. You doin' OK?'

Jacob jerked his head up, startled, and Dean gave him a reassuring smile before looking away, pretending to study the posters on the wall. He gave the kid a minute to dry his tears before turning back to him.

The kid looked like he would be on the verge of asking what Dean was doing there, if he trusted his voice enough to speak. Dean didn't give him the chance. 'I hear you're having a pretty tough day. You hanging in there?'

Jacob hunched in on himself, shoulders high and tight. 'How did you know? Did you... are they looking for me?'

'No, nothin' like that,' Dean reassured him quickly. 'I heard about what happened, decided to come and see if you were OK. See if you could use someone to talk to.' He perched on the edge of the bed, minimising the difference in their heights. 'You wanna tell me what happened?'

For a minute it looked like Jacob would refuse, but Dean stayed quiet, watching the kid's fingers work nervously at a loose thread on the comforter.

'I just wanted to play basketball,' Jacob said after a while, his voice almost inaudible.

'At the centre,' Dean said, not so much a question as encouragement to keep going.

'I knew there was a game, some of the guys from my school always play there during lunch recess.' Jacob jerked a little too hard at the thread, pulling it free from the comforter. 'I just thought I could play with them for a change.'

'And they weren't too interested?' Dean asked gently.

Jacob coloured up, cheeks burning red against the pallor of his face. 'They called me a freak,' he said fiercely. 'They said I couldn't play for shit, anyway, and they called me a freak.' He looked up at Dean, eyes glistening. 'And I _can_ play.'

'You looked good with that ball when I saw you before,' Dean agreed, quiet reassurance. 'And in my experience... does no good listening to people who say things like that. What happened?'

The colour drained from Jacob's face as quickly as it had come. 'I don't know. I was angry, and I threw the ball at Mitch, and the next thing there were flames everywhere, and - I don't know.'

Dean took a long look at him and nodded. He'd been right about one thing: Jacob hadn't been doing any of this intentionally. But he did seem to be starting to realise that it had something to do with him, although Dean wasn't sure just how much the kid had understood. 'Jacob? Anything like this ever happen to you before?'

'What?' Jacob looked confused. 'No, what do you - the only fire I've even seen before was the one here last -' He cut off again suddenly, eyes widening. 'You think it's - you think the fire here had something to do with _me_?'

'Jacob -' Dean paused to think. He always hated breaking this sort of news, especially to kids, even though honesty was the only real option. 'Look, man, I don't know. I just don't know what we're dealing with here. But the fire at the centre, that came from you, didn't it? And - well - no one knows exactly how the fire here started.'

Jacob stared at him. 'You mean... you think it was _my_ fault?'

'I don't know what -' Dean started to say, but Jacob interrupted, sounding close to panic.

'I didn't do anything! I didn't, I swear it, I wasn't even _near_ Zach when the fire started, I wouldn't -'

'Jacob,' Dean said firmly. 'Listen to me. No one's accusing you of anything - I'm definitely not saying you wanted to hurt Zach. I know you would never do that. But sometimes people can do things without meaning to, when they're upset. If you think there's even the slightest chance that that's what happened here, you need to tell me so we can help you.'

'I didn't! I wouldn't - how can you even ask me that?!' Jacob's voice was shifting from panic-stricken to angry now. 'You're crazy! I wasn't even near him! I didn't do anything to Mitch, either, even though he was being a jerk! Why're you picking on me about it? Go away and leave me alone!'

Jacob picked up his pillow and flung it at Dean, shaking with impotent rage. It reminded Dean of Sammy during his teenage door-slamming phase, and it would have been funny if it hadn't been for the desolate look on Jacob's face.

And for the fact that flames were blossoming on the edges of the pillowcase.

* * *

'Well, the symptoms could match any number of phenomena,' Joshua said. 'The first fire took place out in Russia?'

'Yeah,' Sam said. 'About 12 years ago. The kid was just under seven months old.'

'And then nothing?' Sam heard Joshua suck in a breath, considering.

'Nothing until now,' Sam confirmed. 'But two serious fires in a week.'

'Fire, fire...' Joshua murmured under his breath. 'You're right to say a curse is unlikely: there wouldn't have been such a gap if that was all it was... The child wasn't hurt in any of these fires?'

'Apparently not,' Sam equivocated. 'But, well, the reports from the first fire are confusing. It sounds like they thought he was pretty badly hurt, but he pulled through really quickly. I didn't even see any scars on the kid.'

'Really?' Joshua said, voice sharpening. 'An unnaturally quick recovery, perhaps?'

Sam sighed. 'It's too long ago for me to find as much information as I'd like, not to mention most of the stuff that _is_ available online is in Russian. But the kid's father did talk about it being a 'miraculous recovery', and what I've found does seem to confirm that, as far as it goes.'

'Hmmm,' Joshua said. 'My knowledge of that part of the world isn't as extensive as I'd like, but have you considered a supernatural parasite? There are some things, especially out in the more inhospitable regions, that can latch onto people, use them as hosts.'

'But it's been twelve years,' Sam objected. 'If he was being possessed by something, wouldn't it have destroyed him by now? If anything it's been the opposite - he seems to have had a series of lucky escapes.'

'No parasite wants to kill its host, Sam,' Joshua pointed out. 'If the boy _is_ infected with something of that nature, it's more likely to protect him, heal him.'

Sam rubbed one hand across his forehead. 'I guess. The most recent fires, they've happened when someone annoys him - jealousy of his new brother, some kids picking on him. That might fit with him being possessed, if this thing is acting to protect him.'

'It's not something I've seen before personally, but it fits with what I know,' Joshua agreed. 'It sounds as though the parasite's getting stronger, though. Sometimes these things increase in intensity at the onset of puberty. I'd advise approaching the boy with caution.'

Sam raised his head slowly. 'Dean went looking for him. He didn't think that - Joshua, I've got to go find him. I really appreciate your help -'

'Don't mention it,' Joshua said. 'I suggest you find your brother before he gets himself into trouble, Sam.'

'Not much chance of that,' Sam joked weakly, and ended the call. He hit the speed-dial for Dean, already rushing down the steps to the street.

The phone rang and kept ringing.


	3. Chapter 3

The flames blazed up fiercely as they headed towards Dean.

_Son of a_...

He was up off the bed and on his feet before the pillow hit, already grabbing for the towel hanging over the back of a chair. He flung it over the flames, trying to smother them before they took hold and set the whole bed on fire, but without success. It wasn't that the fire was escaping from under the edges of the cloth; it came licking out _through_ it, reaching up hungrily at Dean's hands without even burning through the towel itself.

Dean pulled back quickly and grabbed for Jacob, intending to get the kid out of the room before the fire could take hold. His hand met flames, and he jerked away in shock. The fire was already up around Jacob, flickering about his face, but as Dean watched he realised it wasn't burning the kid. More than that, Jacob didn't even seem to be _aware_ of it.

_Shit_. This thing just kept getting better.

'Jacob,' he said, keeping his voice quiet but urgent. 'You have to stop it. You have to get it under control. Now.'

Jacob was now staring at the flames twining around his arm, looking dazed.

'_Jacob_,' Dean said, raising his voice in the hope of gaining the boy's attention. 'Jacob, c'mon, look at me.'

The kid slowly raised his head, his expression still dazed. As his eyes met Dean's, though, something shifted and the confusion suddenly gave way to panic.

'What's happening? What did you do to me?' He was coming back to himself now, voice rising in fear.

'C'mon, Jacob, you know better than that. You can control it, come on.' Dean was trying to keep his tone calm, but the fire was spreading, rising up around the bed, and he wasn't sure how long he had before the whole room went up. He shifted experimentally towards the door, and a new line of flame shot out from the bed, cutting him off.

Oh, this was going to hell real fast.

Dean took a shallow breath, trying not to choke on the smoke that was building up in the room.

'I'm on _fire_,' Jacob moaned, panic taking over. 'I'm burning, I'm - oh god, put it out, put it out, make it _stop_!'

'Cool it,' Dean ordered, borrowing his father's old tone of command. He heard his phone start up in his pocket; he was dimly aware that it wasn't the first time it had gone off, but now _so_ wasn't the time. 'Calm the hell down, Jacob, it's not hurting you. You're not burning, see? Now you're the only one who can put it out, so just - breathe with me, OK?'

'I _can't_.' Jacob was sobbing now, so worked up that he was hardly listening at all. 'It isn't me, it isn't, I _can't_...' He was sucking in great lungfuls of smoke as he sobbed, but it didn't seem to be affecting him at all.

'It _is_ you, Jacob,' Dean said, his voice hard. No time to go easy on the kid. 'I know you wish it wasn't, but it is. Now get it together. _Now_.'

The flames flared up higher, surging towards Dean. _Shit_. He tensed, ready to get the hell out of there, even if it did mean running through the flames.

Then, abruptly, the fire disappeared altogether.

He let his breath out slowly. 'Nice work, Jacob.' He crossed to the window and flung it open to let some of the smoke out. When he turned back to the bed, Jacob was still staring at him.

Ignoring the damage to the comforter, Dean sat back down, angled round to face the kid. Jacob was very pale and still a little glassy-eyed. 'You still with me?' Dean asked, more gently now that the immediate danger was past.

Jacob nodded faintly, shakily, which Dean figured was better than nothing.

'OK,' Dean said. 'Let's just stay cool, OK? You're not hurt, are you?'

Jacob stared down at his unmarked arms as if he'd never seen them before. 'It - it didn't burn me. It - how could - I don't understand.' His voice was strained and still desperately close to tears.

Dean took a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was going to explain something he didn't understand yet himself. 'I've gotta be honest, Jacob, I'm not sure what's going on. But it seems pretty clear the fire comes from you...' Inspiration hit. 'Like Pyro, remember? In the X-Men? You've just gotta figure out how to control it.'

Jacob stared at him in horror. 'You're saying I'm a _mutant_?'

'Dude, mutants can be cool!' Dean realised belatedly that Pyro might not be such a great role model, as far as mutants went. 'But no, not a mutant, exactly. Just... you have a gift.' Great, now he was sounding like a fucking daytime movie special.

'_Gift_?' Jacob choked out, staring at the charred ruins of his bedspread.

'It's OK,' Dean said again, keeping his voice as soothing as he could, even though it wasn't OK, wasn't OK at all. 'We're gonna figure this out, all right? You just gotta stay calm. No one's hurt, no harm no foul.'

Jacob's gaze shot back to him suddenly. 'You - you're not hurt?'

'I'm fine,' Dean reassured him immediately. Well, truth be told, he was a bit singed around the edges, but nothing all that serious by his standards. 'I'm fine, Jacob, it didn't hurt me.'

'Oh god,' Jacob whispered, turning paler instead of being reassured. 'I - Zach. The fire, that was me. I hurt him. I almost killed - oh _god_, I didn't mean to, I didn't -'

'Jacob, Zach's fine,' Dean interrupted. 'The fire wasn't your fault - I think we've pretty much established that you had no idea what was happening.'

'But what if he hadn't been?' Jacob said wildly. 'What if it happens again? What if I kill someone without even meaning to? If Rebecca hadn't noticed the fire -'

'But he _was_ fine,' Dean said firmly. 'No point in panicking about might-have-beens. As for the rest, we're going to work on making sure it doesn't happen again, OK?'

Jacob stared at him for a long moment, then slowly the tension began to bleed away from his shoulders. 'OK,' he said, and managed a tremulous smile.

Dean smiled back reassuringly, then looked up to realise the room was half-dark. 'Dude, I better get you home. Your folks are gonna be freaking out.'

Jacob glanced across at the window as if he'd only just realised how late it was himself. 'Oh. I... don't think they'll be all that bothered. But yeah, OK.'

'You might be surprised,' Dean said gently, and stood. 'C'mon, let's go. I'll introduce you to my baby.'

* * *

The motel room was small and, as Sam paced from one side of it to the other, it felt even smaller.

Dean hadn't answered any of his calls, and a brief search of the streets near where the Areys were staying had revealed no sign of his brother, or of Jacob Arey. Out of ideas, Sam had returned to the motel, half-hoping to find Dean there. But the room had been as empty as they'd left it. Outside, it was getting dark.

Sam tried to tell himself that Dean had just left his phone somewhere or - more likely - that he'd gotten distracted by whoever had left that lipstick kiss on the corner of his mouth the day he'd 'interviewed' the neighbours. But Joshua's warning refused to leave his mind.

He pulled out his cell phone and checked for messages again. Still nothing. It was tempting to try calling Dean again, but Sam forced himself to put his phone away. His brother would have answered if he could, although the thought of what might be stopping him was not a happy one. Sam was about to resume his pacing when the door opened and Dean walked in.

He stank of sweat and smoke, and small burn marks were visible on his clothes, but Sam could barely take any of that in over the rush of relief he felt at the sight of him. 'Where the _fuck_ have you been, Dean? You didn't answer your cell, I thought...'

'Was a little too busy to answer the phone, Sam,' Dean said, closing the door behind him and shrugging out of his leather jacket, frowning as he inspected a burnt spot on it.

'You found Jacob, huh?' Sam looked more closely at his brother, noting the burns on his hands and the drawn tiredness around his eyes. 'Bathroom, now.'

He pushed Dean down to sit on the edge of the bath and broke out the first aid kit. 'So, what went down?' He caught his breath as he looked at the burns. Not hospital bad - this time - but nasty. 'Jesus, Dean, what the hell did he do to you?'

'He didn't mean to,' Dean said, overly casual. 'I kinda suggested the fires might have had something to do with him, and he freaked. No big deal.'

'Dean, some of these are second-degree burns!' Sam exclaimed. 'You're covered in smoke - if this is no big deal, what the hell happens when Jacob thinks something _is_ a big deal?'

'I meant the _burns_ are no big deal, ass,' Dean said, pulling his hand away. 'Of course it's a big deal for _Jacob_ \- I just all but told him he nearly burnt his brother to death. How the hell was the kid supposed to react?'

'Not by nearly burning you to death, for fuck's sake! Dean, we've gotta do something about this.' Sam caught hold of Dean's hand again, pressing a wet cloth against the tender skin.

'Yeah, we do,' Dean agreed, wincing. 'Or we're gonna end up with another Max Miller on our hands. You were right about him being the one starting the fires - he's lashing out at people who've hurt him, though at least he hasn't been doing it on purpose. We need to get him some help, make him learn to control his abilities.' He rubbed his free hand across his face, looking suddenly tired.

Sam let the cloth drop, squeezed Dean's shoulder apologetically. 'I wish it were that simple, but he's not one of the psychics, Dean. Joshua thinks we might be dealing with some kind of parasite, something that sunk its claws into him out in Russia. He's not in control, Dean. He's a danger to everyone around him. This isn't like Max - Jacob _can't_ stop.'

'You called - I thought we agreed not to bring him in on this, Sam,' Dean said sharply.

Sam shook his head in disbelief. 'We were in way over our heads, man, we needed the help.'

'Guess it's done now,' Dean muttered, still not looking happy. 'What makes you so sure Joshua's right? The way Jacob's abilities are spiralling, it looks to me like the yellow-eyed demon might be involved.'

'The timings don't fit, Dean. Jacob wasn't exactly six months when his mother died - he was closer to seven. And I - all the other kids like me - we didn't come into our powers until we were grown up. Joshua says these parasitic demons really take hold at puberty.' Sam paused, searching through the first-aid kit to find a bit of gauze. He gently bandaged the worst burn, frowning in concentration as he tried to figure out a way of arranging the bandage so it wouldn't get in the way too much.

Dean flexed his fingers experimentally, eyes still on Sam's face as Sam continued, 'I found some gossip about how badly Jacob was burned when the fireman brought him out of the house. Seems like it was more than a miraculous escape - the kid virtually came back from the dead. If it was a parasite, it would have done that, healed him.'

'...Keep the host alive,' Dean murmured distantly, and Sam could almost see the realisation setting in. 'Son of a bitch. Joshua have any bright ideas on what we should do about it?'

Sam bit his lip. 'We didn't really get that far. Joshua was kind of going on guesswork anyway - it wasn't anything he'd seen himself. But at least now we know the kind of thing we're looking for.'

'So,' Dean said heavily. 'More research.'

Sam checked Dean's hand over one last time, tugging gently at the bandage to be sure it would hold. 'Yeah, more research. It'll keep until morning, though.' He released Dean's hand and lifted the other, running a practised eye over it, deciding none of the burns were bad enough to need bandaging. 'You burnt anywhere else?'

'Dude, I'm _fine_,' Dean said, though he didn't tug his hand away. 'Quit fussing.'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'C'mon, let's find some food. I'm hungry for barbecue.'

He made it halfway out of the bathroom before the wet washcloth hit the back of his head.

* * *

Dean towelled himself off, inspecting his body for damage as he did so. In the morning light, the burns he'd sustained didn't look didn't look nearly as bad as Sam had made out the previous night. Much as he would have liked to have chalked that up to Sammy overreacting, he suspected there might be more to it than that. He peeled off the bandage to find there were only a few red patches to show where the worst of the burns had been. He wasn't sure he liked the implications, but he wasn't complaining.

He emerged from the bathroom to the blissful smell of coffee.

'I got breakfast,' Sam said, looking up from his laptop. His eyes flickered over Dean for a moment, assessing the damage for himself. 'How're your hands?'

'Good as new,' Dean said lightly, taking a swig of his coffee before digging out some clothes and starting to dress.

'Seriously?' Sam asked, sounding sceptical. 'Let me see.'

Dean gave a martyred sigh and held them out for Sam's inspection, then punched his brother lightly on the shoulder and went back to buttoning up his shirt. 'They're good enough for me to take you, trust me.'

'Well, that's good, I guess,' Sam said, still sounding a little dubious.

Dean took another gulp of his coffee and grabbed the bag of food Sam had left on the table. 'Yeah, no need to sound too happy that I'm OK, dude. You found anything useful?'

'Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've figured out what we're dealing with here. There's a demon from that part of the world that fits the bill - fire, healing powers, sounds like our guy. There's not much lore on it - otherwise we probably would have found it before - but there's enough once you know what you're looking for. ' Sam turned the laptop round to show Dean his notes.

'I dunno, it's not a lot to go on, Sammy.' Dean reached out to scroll down the page and Sam jerked the computer back.

'Dean! Jelly doughnuts, dude. I realise you have trouble grasping this, but we need the computer to actually work.' Sam brought up the next bit of text and set it back in front of his brother.

Dean flipped him off, then sucked sugar off his fingers and looked through the notes. 'Yeah...' he said finally. 'I guess it fits. The healing thing, at least.' He shoved his hands in his pockets. 'Any clues on how to deal with it?'

'Well, it's a demon,' Sam said. 'It should be pretty standard - holy water, exorcism... I've checked out the Orthodox rites, just in case it needs something a bit more specific.'

'Whoa, whoa, hold it,' Dean said. 'Whether it's this...' He squinted at the screen. '...this K'daai thing or not, it's not your standard demon. Jacob wasn't acting like your usual possessed person, either - he wasn't trying to hurt me. Would an exorcism even work on this thing?'

'You were burnt pretty badly last night, Dean,' Sam pointed out. 'If Joshua was right with his parasite theory, it may not act precisely like a normal possession. But I think an exorcism will still work - if it reacts to Christo and holy water, we'll know it should.'

Dean pushed away the bag of doughnuts. 'Sam - he's just a kid.'

'Yeah, Dean, but that doesn't mean whatever's possessing him is. It's only a matter of time before he really hurts someone.' Sam met his eyes. 'I know exorcisms aren't exactly fun, but once it's done the poor kid can have a normal life.'

'You don't know that,' Dean said. 'There's no way we can know that, Sam. If the thing's been healing him...'

He bit his lip and looked at the floor. When he looked back at Sam, his brother was still regarding him steadily. What had happened with Meg hung between them, unspoken.

'It was the right thing to do,' Sam said quietly. 'Even...' he trailed off.

Dean shook his head and looked away. 'It was different, Sam. She was trapped in there, and we put an end to it. And it was still a fucking lousy thing to have to do.' He took a deep breath, resisted the urge to start pacing across the room. 'It's different with this kid. We can't just...'

'Dean, what's the alternative? That he has to go on, never knowing when he might hurt someone, when it's going to get out of his control? We owe it to him to try and get rid of this.'

'And if we kill him in the process?'

'Then it's better than making him live with that on his conscience. There are worse things than dying, Dean.' Sam looked away, fingers rubbing unconsciously at his sleeve, back and forth over the scar on his forearm.

'He's a goddamn _kid_, Sammy,' Dean repeated helplessly. 'He's _twelve_,for christ's sake.'

'We'll keep looking, Dean,' Sam promised. 'There might be something else we can try. But if it looks like his powers are getting out of control...'

Dean nodded silently and took a long swig of his now-cold coffee. 'So, what's the plan for today? More research, right?'

The corner of Sam's mouth turned up at the resignation in Dean's tone. 'Pretty much, yeah. I thought -' He broke off, head tilting to the side as he listened.

Cold realisation settled in Dean's stomach as he made out the sound of fire sirens.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find the fire, since half the fire trucks in town seemed to be converging on the same block. Dean paled when he saw where they were headed.

_The middle school_.

The site was in chaos, kids clustered outside in varying states of panic, while faculty tried to call roll and get them into some kind of order.

Dean pulled up at the far end of the parking lot, far enough away not to attract attention, and made for the trunk. He and Sam worked quickly and efficiently, grabbing equipment without the need for discussion.

Sam pushed a bottle of holy water at him, and Dean hesitated for a moment before closing his hand around it and jamming it into his pocket. He surveyed the rest of their weapons, and ran a mental inventory of what he had on him, trying to figure out if there was anything else he'd need. _Holy water, salt, knife, gun_...

There was no telling what they'd need, but that would have to do. He slammed the trunk closed, then met Sam's eyes and jerked his head towards the school. 'Let's go.'

Getting in wasn't as hard as Dean had feared: the school had mostly emptied out by now, and there was enough chaos that they managed to slip around to the back and in without anyone challenging them.

Inside, they could smell the smoke almost at once.

_Shit_, Dean thought. This was no small, contained fire.

They moved down the corridor as quickly as they could. No one else was in sight, to Dean's relief - hopefully all the kids had gotten out already. But even if they had, he had a feeling Jacob was still in there somewhere.

'This way,' Sam said, nodding to the right. 'The smoke was coming from that end of the school.'

The smell of the smoke grew stronger as they made their way through the building, and Dean winced. He shot a sideways glance at Sam. Fires were one thing he always tried hard to keep Sam as far away from as possible.

Then again, he'd had worse failures over the past few months.

Sam's eyes were dark, but he seemed to be holding it together OK. 'Here,' he said, and Dean followed.

The hallways were abandoned, doors standing open to reveal empty classrooms. Dean glanced into each one as they passed, checking that no one had been left behind. They rounded a corner, and the source of the fire became clear: at the end of the hall, one door remained firmly shut, smoke seeping out from underneath. Sam made towards it, but Dean caught his arm.

'Hold it, Sam.' He retreated down the hallway a little, dragging Sam into a bathroom - the girls' bathroom, according to the sign on the door, but who was checking? Dean shucked off his jacket and overshirt, gesturing to Sam to do the same. He dumped both their shirts under the faucet and turned it on full, soaking the fabric.

When they returned from the bathroom, smoke was pouring out even faster from underneath the closed door. Dean eyed it, and decided touching the door would be a bad idea unless he wanted to burn his hands badly this time. He wrapped his wet shirt around his face and shot a glance at Sam to make sure he was doing the same.

Then he kicked the door once, hard, and it flew open.

The fire rushed out to meet them.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean leapt back from the blazing doorway, pulling Sam with him.

_Shit_ . It looked like the situation might already be beyond their help.

'Jacob!' he yelled out, without knowing if there was any chance of his voice being heard over the crackle of the fire.

The flames dropped back a little and Dean glimpsed a huddle of frightened kids in the room beyond. It looked like they had a clear route to the window, which the flames hadn't reached yet, but they were seemingly too paralysed by fear to try to move. Instead, they were staring in horror at the back of the room, where the flames were concentrated, licking up high and bright around a crouching figure.

'_Jacob_ !' Dean yelled again. The kid showed no sign of having heard, but the fire around the door flickered and dropped even lower. Dean shared a glance with Sam, then led the way through the gap in the flames.

Inside the room, Dean took a second to size up the scene, noting the strange pattern of the fire. It sure as hell wasn't natural: judging by the ferocity of the flames flanking the walls, the whole room should have been ablaze by now. Instead, the fire was sticking to certain areas. Rather than rushing towards the open window, where the breeze should have fanned the flames, it seemed almost to shrink away, letting in the oxygen it should have consumed. Whatever kind of parasite was possessing Jacob, it was clear it was working to keep him alive. Dean wasn't sure it felt the same way about anyone else, though.

Sam touched his arm, nodding back towards the doorway, and Dean saw that the flames had sprung back up behind them. Not a good sign.

Dean looked at the group of kids huddling together in the middle of the room, and recognised the boy they'd spoken to at the community centre the previous day. _Mitch_ , he recalled. Judging by the way the kid's eyes widened in panic at the sight of him, Mitch remembered him too. _Too bad he didn't listen_ , Dean thought, and turned his attention to Jacob.

Jacob was crouched at the back of the room, fists balled up against his face. Although the fire was burning fiercely around him, there was no sign that he felt the flames.

Dean started towards the boy. Behind him, he heard Sam talking quickly and urgently to the other kids, marshalling them to move. At a sudden outburst of screaming, Dean glanced back and saw that as soon as they had started to head for the window, flames had sprung up from previously clear floor. OK, so that plan was out.

'Jacob,' Dean said cautiously, raising his voice a little to be heard through the shirt across his mouth. 'Can you hear me? You've gotta help us out, here. We need to get everyone out.'

Jacob didn't respond, or even give any sign that he was aware of Dean's presence. Dean grimaced and crouched down beside the kid. He pulled the shirt away from his face so he could talk more clearly, trying to ignore the heat beating against his skin.

Now that he was closer, he could hear Jacob murmuring, moaning under his breath, 'Nonononononononono...'

'Jacob,' Dean said more firmly. 'Jacob, c'mon, buddy, I need you to listen to me. Look at me, Jacob. It's me.'

The kid stopped murmuring, breathing hard, and slowly raised his head to meet Dean's gaze.

'That's it,' Dean encouraged. 'Jacob, we need your help. Remember how you controlled the fire yesterday? I need you to control it again now - you need to clear the doorway so we can get these kids outta here.'

Jacob's eyes filled with tears. 'I _can't_ ,' he wailed. 'It's too big, I told them to leave me alone and they wouldn't stop and now it's too big! I'm gonna get in so much trouble!'

'You can,' Dean said. 'No one's gonna care what happened, Jacob, just so long as we get this thing under control. Just how you did it yesterday, remember?'

Jacob heaved a deep breath, and the fire died back a little. Dean could still feel the flickering heat close by his face, but when he risked a glance over his shoulder he saw that the flames by the window were no longer actively threatening the huddled kids. He started to let himself think that Jacob actually _could_ control this.

Then Dean felt the splash of water hitting him, and heard Sam say ' _Christo_ .'

Jacob screamed and shied back against the wall, his eyes flashing red, like burning coals. The flames roared up higher.

Dean threw one arm up to shield his face and stumbled back, feeling Sam's hand close around his arm and drag him clear. He was aware of the kids behind him screaming hysterically, but most of his focus was on Jacob.

'I'd say we're pretty definitely dealing with a demon here,' Sam was saying.

'You think?' Dean said, unable to bite back his sarcasm, and shook Sam's hand off. _Damn_ . He'd hoped... well, that was how it went. Now they had to focus on how to help the kid.

__ Jacob had stilled a little, no longer writhing in agony, but the glow in his eyes was still more than could be accounted for by reflection from the flames.

'Dean,' Sam said firmly, drawing his attention. 'Dean, man... we have to do the exorcism.'

'Sam, we _can't_ ,' Dean replied, meeting his brother's eyes. 'Look at the kid, he's covered in flames! Even if the healing from before was permanent, if we exorcise him now he'll die for sure.'

Sam started to speak, then pulled the shirt impatiently away from his mouth. 'And if we don't, all of these other kids are going to die, Dean!' he said urgently. 'We're out of options.'

'Look, Sam, just give it a little more time!' Dean argued. 'I was getting through to him before you started with the goddamn holy water. We've gotta give him one last chance to stop this.'

'More _time_ ?' Sam's voice was incredulous. 'Dean, we're _out_ of time. This whole place is a freaking inferno. And even if we could stop this, what about the next time?'

'It's not the normal kind of possession, Sam. It's just a parasite, he can _control_ this, I know he can,' Dean insisted. 'The thing saw what you were doing as a threat and took over, and if we try to exorcise the goddamn thing now, we're just gonna make things worse! We need to calm the kid the fuck down and get it under control, that's all.'

'Dean...' Sam shook his head, trailing off.

'Shut up and deal with these kids,' Dean said roughly, and stepped forward to crouch in front of Jacob again. The flames died down a little, letting him closer.

'Jacob,' he said, low and urgent. He steeled himself, then reached through the flames and took hold of Jacob's face, turning the kid to look at him.

'Jacob,' he said again, and saw the kid's eyes focus on him, their fiery glow receding back to blue. Mercifully, the flames around him receded a little, drawing away from Dean's skin.

'It hurt,' Jacob whispered, his voice shaking.

'I know it did,' Dead said soothingly. 'I know, and I'm sorry, and we're gonna try and make sure it doesn't need to happen again, OK? But you need to focus for me, Jacob. I need you to help me, and I need you to do it now.'

He could see the kid trying, shoulders shaking with the effort, and the flames died back a little more before shooting up again.

'I _can't_ ... it's so strong,' Jacob said.

'Keep trying,' Dean said urgently. 'Just... see if you can keep it away from the window, at least. Let the other kids get out.'

Jacob set his teeth, straining with effort, and the flames drew back from the window, dancing up around Dean instead. He flinched as some of them came close enough to lick at his skin, but didn't back away.

'Sam! Get them out!' Dean shouted. He saw Sam open his mouth to protest. ' _Now_ , Sammy!'

Sam nodded once, face tight, and turned to the kids, marshalling them towards the window.

'C'mon, Jacob,' Dean said encouragingly, turning back to him. He could see the kid's control slipping, though, and more and more of the fire seemed to be getting drawn back their way instead of dying away. He reached out to Jacob, grabbing his shoulder as if he could take some of the strain for him. Then he felt the burn of hot metal against his leg.

'Gotta be worth a try,' he muttered to himself, and drew the knife.

Jacob's eyes went to it, wide and scared, and the fire rushed towards Dean.

'Wait, Jacob,' Dean said desperately. 'I'm not gonna hurt you. I think this might help you.' He held it out, hilt first.

Jacob hesitated for a second before putting out his hand to take it. Dean felt a moment of panic as the kid's fingers closed around it. He was banking on iron having the same effect on this parasite as it did on so many other magical creatures, but there was every chance it would be useless. Or worse, that it would produce the same reaction as the holy water had.

It was a risk, but at this point, he was about out of ideas.

Jacob grasped the hilt of the knife and slowly lifted it. Dean heaved a quiet sigh of relief when the kid didn't scream; at least he hadn't made everything worse.

'What - what am I supposed to do?' Jacob asked tremulously.

_The hell if I know,_ Dean thought privately. 'Just - focus on it,' he said aloud. 'Draw the fire back towards it, see if you can control it.'

In _theory_ , the iron ought to help to neutralise the parasite's abilities, if the thing did react like most other magical creatures. Maybe that would tip the balance enough for Jacob to gain control. Maybe if Jacob _thought_ it was a sure thing that the knife would help him, he'd manage it.

It was an awful lot of maybes for one plan, but still not bad for one he'd more or less invented on the spot, Dean figured.

Jacob tightened his fingers around the knife, face wrinkled in concentration. For a long, long, moment, it seemed like nothing was happening. The fire still raged around them, separated from Dean by only a few inches.

Then, slowly, the heat began to ease.

Jacob's grip grew firmer, more confident, and now Dean could see the flames surging back towards him, thinning and diminishing as they came, until they were absorbed into the metal. The knife began to glow red hot, but it didn't seem to be hurting Jacob. Instead, an intent smile began to grow on his face.

'That's it,' Dean encouraged, keeping his voice low to avoid disrupting the kid's concentration. 'That's good, Jacob, keep it up.'

The flames were melting away, vanishing into the knife; the smoke was slowly thinning and clearing, and the heat was growing more bearable by the second.

Dean glanced around and saw that the room was almost free of the fire now. The door was clear. The kids were gone; Sam was standing beside the window, watching Jacob intently. He met Dean's gaze and nodded minutely, then crossed the room to join them.

The last of the fire vanished, and Jacob looked up at them both, face shining. 'I did it! I told it to go into the knife, and it did!'

'You did good, kiddo,' Dean said. He squeezed the kid's shoulder, then winced as he became aware of the new burns blossoming on his hands.

Jacob frowned, his face falling. 'You're - you're hurt.'

'Nah, it's nothing,' Dean assured him confidently. 'I'm fine.'

Jacob grabbed his hands and looked at them. 'You're hurt. I'm _sorry_ , I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't mean... You shouldn't be hurt.'

Dean tried not to wince as Jacob's fingers pressed against the burns. They flared with heat for a moment, then the sensation was gone.

'Whoa,' he said, staring down at his hands. The burns were... not completely gone, but were like the reddened patches he'd found on his hands that morning. Almost healed.

'Neat party trick,' he observed, swallowing hard. 'Thanks, kiddo.'

Sam reached down and pulled Dean to his feet. 'I think it's time to go,' he observed quietly.

'Yeah,' Dean agreed, and held his own hand out to Jacob. 'C'mon, let's get out of here.'

Jacob let Dean pull him up, and looked down at the knife he was still clutching. 'What should I do with this?'

'It's yours, man,' Dean told him. 'You keep it safe - you never know when you might need it again.'

'Probably best not to walk out of here like that, though,' Sam said wryly. 'We can rig you something up for now.' He reached for the shirt still dangling from his neck.

'I've got a better idea,' Dean said. He leant down and unfastened the sheath he was wearing around his leg. 'Here, put this on. That way you can keep it on you, where no one will see.' He showed Jacob how to fasten it, and grinned when the kid sheathed the knife and straightened out his pants so it didn't show.

'OK, let's get outta here,' Dean said, clapping Jacob on the shoulder.

The school was still deserted for the moment, although Dean suspected it would soon be crawling with firefighters trying to figure out what the hell had happened to the fire they'd been trying to put out. He smirked slightly at the thought.

The daylight seemed unnaturally bright as Sam opened the same door they'd entered through and they stepped outside. Dean blinked a little, looking around. There were still crowds of people standing there, with parents fussing over their kids.

' _Jacob_ !'

Jacob shrank back. ' _Rebecca_ . She's gonna be so mad, I'm gonna be in so much _trouble_ ...'

Before Dean could offer any reassurance, Jacob's stepmother pushed her way through the crowd to reach them. 'Jacob! Oh, thank god.'

Seemingly oblivious in her relief to the fact that Jacob had gone rigid with fear, Rebecca pulled him into his arms and hugged him. 'Thank goodness you're OK - when they said you were still inside, I was so worried -'

After a moment, Rebecca seemed to recollect herself, and released him, biting her lip nervously. But then Jacob gave her a tremulous smile, and she slowly smiled back, relaxing.

Dean smiled a little himself. Hell, it was a start.

* * *

Sam took a deep breath, grateful to be back out in - relatively - fresh air. Smoke still hung heavy in the air, but nothing like as bad as it had been in that classroom.

He looked around and winced at the sight of a firefighter heading purposefully in their direction. _Here we go..._

Dean didn't appear to have noticed, still watching Jacob with Rebecca. Sam elbowed him sharply in the ribs, cutting his eyes meaningfully towards the approaching firefighter. Fortunately Dean took his point immediately, though he did shoot Sam a glare for elbowing him. Sam merely rolled his eyes in response and led the way into the crowd, winding their way through and out of sight. Once they were sure no one could be following them, they made their way to the Impala and made good their escape.

'Dude, I need a shower,' Dean said ruefully.

'Yup,' Sam said, wrinkling his nose. 'You're rank, man.'

'You're not exactly smelling of roses yourself, bitch.'

'Yeah, well, at least I wasn't the one sticking my hands _into_ the goddamn fire,' Sam said, _almost_ managing to keep his voice even. 'Which I guess means you're getting the first shower.'

'Hey, whatever works,' Dean said off-handedly, getting out of the car and fishing the motel key out of his pocket.

Despite some pointed remarks about payback and people who used all the water that time in Wisconsin Rapids, Dean was pretty quick showering. Sam took his time, luxuriating in the warm water, trying to relax and stop replaying the memory of Dean's burnt hands, the screaming kids, the acrid taste of the smoke on his tongue. God, he hated fire.

The thought of being in Jacob's shoes, living with the fear of fire every day, was too awful to contemplate.

Finally the water began to run cold, and he reluctantly turned off the shower. When he emerged from the bathroom, Dean was lying on the bed, flicking idly through the crappy range of channels available on the motel TV.

'Just let me get dressed and we can go get started,' Sam said, hunting through his duffle for some clean clothes.

'With what?' Dean asked, most of his attention still clearly on the TV.

Sam shot him a look. 'This isn't over, Dean. We still have to exorcise the demon.'

That got Dean's attention, all right. 'We tried going down that route, Sam, or have you forgotten already?'

'No, we didn't,' Sam said, keeping his tone even with an effort. 'We managed the crisis, Dean, that was all. Just because it was too risky to do it while the kid was on fire, doesn't mean we shouldn't do it at all.'

'Yeah, Sam,' Dean said. 'We managed the crisis. _Jacob_ managed the crisis. Despite us nearly fucking it up by sprinkling him with holy water.'

'Dean, that's just the point. He did react to the holy water, and to the name of god. Which means he's _possessed by a demon_ . Since when did we just leave demons to walk around inside people?' Sam's control was slipping now; he could hear his voice growing louder and more unsteady as he spoke.

'It's not a demon,' Dean objected. 'It's a parasite. A parasite which Jacob can control, _did_ control, even when he was half-mad with panic.'

'It's a parasitic _demon_ ,' Sam insisted. 'We can't just leave it possessing the kid!' _God_ , he could still remember that feeling. There was no way they could abandon the kid to that.

'What's the alternative, Sam?' Dean demanded. 'Drive it out of him and let him die of his wounds? I'm not doing that, Sammy. Not this time.'

'We don't know that's what would happen, Dean,' Sam argued. 'The lore said the demon heals people, right? I mean, it even healed you. The healing might be permanent, even if the demon's banished.'

' _Might_ be, Sam,' Dean said emphatically. 'Might be's not enough, not when we're talking about the life of some twelve-year-old kid.'

'Exactly my point!' Sam said. 'He's twelve years old, man. We can't just condemn him to this kind of life when there's something we can do about it.'

'I'm not sayin' it's ideal,' Dean said, meeting his eyes. 'But he got it under control back there, didn't he? He can do this, Sam, I know he can. And when the alternative's death...'

'For all we know the alternative could be a _normal life_ ,' Sam said, and cursed the way his voice cracked. 'He could be _normal_ , Dean.'

'Normal's overrated, Sam,' Dean said, voice rough. 'Some prices aren't worth paying.'

Sam held his brother's eyes a moment more, then bowed his head. 'I don't like this any more than you do, Dean, but we have to at least try.' He looked back up at his brother, forcing himself to meet his gaze. 'I say we try the exorcism, see what kind of effect it has. If there's any sign that... that it's not going to work how we want, we'll stop. But we can't just walk away.'

'No,' Dean said. 'This isn't our decision to make. I say we let Jacob choose. It's his life on the line, here.'

Sam shook his head. 'Dean... God, man, that's not something we can lay on a twelve-year-old kid!'

'But we can lay a fucking exorcism on him?' Dean asked sarcastically. 'Sam, I get that you want to spare him all of this, and I do too. I don't like laying this kind of choice on him either. Hell, I don't like any of the shit that's been happening to him. But he's the only one that can make this choice. He's a kid, but he's not stupid.'

Sam absorbed that silently. Dean had a point; it would be better for Jacob to agree to the exorcism, rather than them just... tying him up against his will. But it still went seriously against the grain to force a kid to make that kind of choice. Not to mention the risk of him refusing.

'I don't like it,' he said quietly.

'Well, that makes two of us,' Dean shot back. 'But what other option have we got, Sam?'

Sam preferred not to address that question. 'OK, you win. Let's do the research first: we can find Jacob once we've figured out exactly what we need to do.'

* * *

Dean glanced up as Sam shoved back his chair and stepped away from the laptop.

'I need a break,' Sam said. 'I'm going to call Joshua, I hung up on him pretty abruptly before. He's going to be wondering if we're OK.'

'Whatever,' Dean said, keeping his tone as casual as he could. He wasn't happy about it, but the damage was already done, and trying to argue with Sam was likely to lead them into territory he still didn't want to get into. The casual tone evidently didn't quite cut it, though, and Sam paused, frowning slightly. Dean grabbed the laptop and stared down at it, doing his best to ignore his brother's eyes on him, and after a moment Sam sighed and turned away, picking up his cellphone.

Dean tried to block out his brother's conversation and instead pulled up Sam's search history. There might be something they'd missed, and he could use the distraction. He looked through the sites Sam had consulted; it looked like Sam had done a pretty thorough job, as usual. There hadn't been many English results, though; most of the documents were in Russian.

Well, no harm in trying, at least.

He started running them through online translation programmes, scanning the text for anything meaningful in between the gobbledegook. The results he got were mostly garbage, but they did at least let him see what the documents were. Most of them didn't seem very useful anyway, and he clicked back to the search page.

Finally, though, he found something that at least appeared relevant: an obituary for the firefighter who had rescued Jacob.

Gavril had been right; he appeared to have died more or less immediately after the fire. The tributes - well, what Dean could make out of them after the translation system had done its worst - seemed heartfelt. The man had chosen to become a firefighter after surviving a fire at a young age, and had had a long and remarkable career, saving many lives.

One of his fellow firefighters noted the number of lucky escapes the guy had had, commenting that his luck had been bound to run out eventually.

_Lucky escapes_ . Not much doubt about how the parasite had found Jacob.

Dean carefully read through the rest of the article, but there wasn't much else of use, although he registered in passing that the firefighter's luck had run out in more ways than one. His widow was quoted as saying he'd been diagnosed with cancer only a few weeks previously, and that while his death was sad, it was how he'd have wanted to go - saving a young life, in a blaze of glory.

He clicked through a few more translated pages, but couldn't really find any more useful information - at any rate, nothing that would give him ammunition in opposing the exorcism. He sighed. It had been a long shot anyway - the last time he'd beaten his brother when it came to research, Sammy had been about twelve.

Behind him, he heard Sam say, 'Are you sure? We really wouldn't want to put you to any trouble, Joshua, and -'

Dean turned around to stare at him.

'Well, we -' Sam cut off again, listening. He glanced across at Dean and then hastily away. 'That - well, if you're absolutely sure. Of course we'd appreciate your advice. How long will it take you to - OK. OK, we'll... we'll be expecting you then. OK. Bye.' He ended the call and stared at his cell, obviously hoping to put off looking back at Dean for as long as possible.

'Sammy,' Dean said, voice dangerous. 'Tell me that wasn't you giving Joshua the OK to come over here.'

Sam refused to meet his eye. 'He wouldn't take no for an answer, Dean. He thinks we're gonna have to do the exorcism in Church Slavonic, and since we're not exactly fluent... I'm sorry, man. I tried to convince him not to come, but he insisted.'

Dean stared at him, then stood abruptly, pacing across the room. 'Well, that's just great. We don't even know we're _doing_ an exorcism yet, Sam! And now we have to deal with him, too?'

'I'm not happy about it either, Dean,' Sam said, his voice sharpening. 'I told you, I tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn't listen.'

'Which is half the reason I didn't want you calling him to start with,' Dean muttered. Joshua's readiness to invite himself onto their hunt wasn't exactly setting Dean's mind at ease about the old man's intentions. Hunters didn't jump in on each other's gigs without good reason. Like, say, wanting to check out whether someone had gone darkside.

He slumped down to sit on the bed. 'Well, damage is done now.'

Sam sighed and sat down beside him, close enough that their knees brushed. 'Did you find anything I missed?'

'I'm pretty sure I know where the parasite came from. It's got to be the firefighter who got Jacob out. Same story - survived a fire when he was a kid and then had a string of miraculous escapes after that. Sounds like he was a bit of a hero, by all accounts. Everyone who knew him talks about how many people he saved,' Dean said pointedly.

Sam sighed again. 'Dean, we're still dealing with a demon here. Maybe the fireman was resistant to it somehow, maybe it was lying dormant, but the way things have been going with Jacob... Exorcism's our only option. This thing's escalating too fast for us to hold off and hope that something else turns up.'

Dean looked across at his brother. Sam didn't look happy with the situation, but his eyes met Dean's unflinchingly. Sam really thought this had to be done. And even when Dean didn't agree, he trusted his brother enough to listen to him.

He stood. 'Let's go find Jacob, then.'

* * *

'Will it hurt?' Jacob asked, voice trembling as he looked from Dean to Sam.

'I can't lie to you, Jacob, it probably will hurt,' Sam said. 'The parasite probably won't want to leave you; it'll fight us. But if this works, then once it's gone it'll be _gone_ \- you won't have to worry about it any more.'

' _Sam_ ,' Dean said warningly.

'If it _doesn't_ work how we want...' Sam swallowed. He hated to say this - god knew Jacob had enough to take on board with the demon angle - but the kid had to be told. '...If the parasite's healing isn't permanent, then... you wouldn't be able to live once it left your body. You'd die.'

'But we won't be letting that happen,' Dean interrupted. 'The _second_ it looks like there's any damage to you, any damage at all, we'll stop. Right, Sam?'

'...Right,' Sam agreed, hesitating only for a moment.

Jacob swallowed hard. 'And if it works, then I'll be normal? I won't... won't be a freak any more?'

'Yes,' said Sam. 'You _are_ normal, Jacob. We just need to get rid of this parasite.'

'I'll do it.' Jacob's eyes were wide with fear, but his face was determined.

'You sure?' Dean asked. His face was shuttered, expressionless, but Sam knew that tone of voice too well. 'You don't have to, Jacob. No one's gonna blame you if you don't want to take that risk.'

Jacob was very pale, but he met Dean's gaze. 'I do. I do have to. It almost... _I_ almost killed Zach. And Mitch, even if he is a jerk. And I only realised this afternoon - I... my mom.' He swallowed hard again and looked down at the floor. 'It was me who killed her, wasn't it.' His voice wavered, but it was a statement, not a question.

Sam's heart sank. He'd been hoping Jacob wouldn't make that connection, even if it _would_ encourage him to go through with the exorcism. He opened his mouth to answer, but Dean interrupted.

'No.' Dean's voice was certain and steady. Sam looked at him in surprise, half-suspecting Dean had just decided honesty wasn't the best policy after all. He knew how his brother looked when he was lying, though, and this wasn't it. But if the parasite had - _Oh_ .

'No, Jacob,' Dean repeated firmly, 'it wasn't you who killed your mom. It can't have been - the parasite came from the firefighter who saved you; it was nowhere near you when the fire started. That fire was natural.'

Jacob stared up at him, and seemed to realise that Dean was telling the truth. His eyes filled with tears, and he looked back down again, blinking fast.

'The parasite hasn't killed anyone yet,' Dean said softly. 'No one's even been badly hurt, Jacob. So don't go blaming yourself for anything like that. And even if someone had been hurt - it wouldn't be your doing.'

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The scene was far too familiar for comfort.

'I still want to do it,' Jacob said after a moment. His voice was still shaky, but he looked a little better now that he'd been reassured in that respect.

'OK,' Dean said. 'But if you change your mind, you just let us know, OK? No one's gonna blame you.'

Sam wasn't so sure that was an option, but he said nothing. Time enough to cross that bridge if and when they came to it.

'OK,' he said. 'The ritual takes a little while, so we need to know that no one's going to worry about you at home. Is there a time when you can get away?'

Jacob thought for a moment. 'Tomorrow afternoon, I guess. Rebecca's taking Zach to the hospital for a check-up. She wanted me to go too, but...' He trailed off.

Sam recognised the implication: Rebecca wasn't exactly going to be surprised at Jacob refusing to take part in a family outing, even if the shock of the school fire had brought them a bit closer.

'OK then, tomorrow,' Sam said decisively. 'We'll meet you...' He paused, trying to think. Picking him up at the house was probably a bad idea.

'By the store,' Dean supplied. 'Where I met you the first time, remember?'

'Yeah,' Jacob said, and mustered a tremulous smile. 'OK. Tomorrow.'

'We'll see you then.' Sam gave the kid a reassuring smile. 'It'll be OK, Jacob.'

He hoped like hell that was true.


	5. Chapter 5

The Areys' old house was the obvious place to do the ritual, even if Dean was worried about the possibility of strong-smelling and overly affectionate neighbours interfering. It only took a few minutes to establish that the basement would be the best place for the job. The only other room with enough clear floor space for the circle was the ruined nursery, and there was no way they were putting the kid through that.

Sam disappeared upstairs to call Joshua and give him the location. Dean watched him go, still feeling far from happy about the way the old man had managed to get himself in on this. He had to admit, though, that if they were going to try the exorcism, then it was probably a good idea to have someone around with half a clue about how it was supposed to go. He'd had enough bad experiences to be wary of going into any ritual blind. Especially one where the stakes were so high.

Dean sighed and got on with clearing the furniture out of the way. Whatever his misgivings, they were doing this thing. After he'd cleared the floor, he started packing as many of the sharp or flammable objects as he could into a box. He didn't really believe it would help much if there was a fire - they'd seen the previous day at the school that Jacob's fires didn't exactly follow natural rules - but he needed the distraction. The last time he'd been involved in an exorcism, Sam had been the one sitting in the circle.

It was a relief when his thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the stairs under Sam's weight. Dean glanced up to see his brother nodding to himself as he looked over the room.

'I spoke to Joshua, he's not far away. He should be here in a few minutes.' Sam held up his duffel. 'I grabbed the rest of the supplies from the trunk. Joshua said to go ahead and set up like for a standard exorcism.' He clambered up on a box and set to work drawing a protective circle on the ceiling.

Dean watched, then shifted uneasily. 'I'm gonna go find a good chair for the kid,' he said. Sam hummed in acknowledgement and Dean gathered up the box of stuff and headed for the stairs.

He decided on a desk chair, in the end. He needed something with arms so they could tie Jacob up (and god, the thought made him sick, but he'd better get over it fast, because they were doing this), but he wanted it to be reasonably comfortable too. He was about to drag it down into the basement when he heard a car pulling up outside. He moved to look out of the window, careful to remain out of sight.

Well. 'Car' might be pushing it slightly. It was a piece of crap, ancient and battered. In fact, it looked like something Mrs Robinson would drive. Dean cringed and ducked back out of sight, just in case, only to pause as the driver emerged. Goddammit, it was _Joshua_. OK, so the guy was pretty ancient - for a hunter, at least - but a man should have his pride.

Dean hurried to the door to let Joshua in. If Mrs Robinson spotted the old man with that car, she'd probably decide Joshua was her soulmate. Although admittedly, Dean thought, better Joshua than him.

'Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester,' Joshua said, stepping inside and offering Dean his hand. 'How are you? I was glad to hear things worked out for you last year.' He looked at Dean assessingly. 'No ill effects, I hope.'

Dean closed the door and shook Joshua's hand, tensing a little at that reminder. 'You know how it goes, Joshua. It's good to see you. It was... good of you to come down, you didn't have to do that.'

'I couldn't leave you boys to manage this on your own, now could I? Now your father's passed -' He caught Dean's gaze for a moment, eyes uncomfortably sharp. 'Well, hunters have got to watch each other's backs, isn't that so?'

Dean grinned a little, no humour in it. 'That's right. Come on, Sam's setting up in the basement.'

'Oh yes,' Joshua said, following him. 'I _am_ looking forward to meeting Sam again.'

Dean led the way downstairs, feeling far from reassured. Oh, Joshua sounded interested in seeing how much Sam had changed, all right; only problem was, Dean didn't think Sam's freakish growth spurt was the kind of change Joshua would be looking for.

They entered the basement to find Sam marking out the circle for the ritual, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up and smiled briefly as they came in, but finished sprinkling the last line of holy water around the edges of the circle before he came over.

'Joshua,' he said, extending his hand and smiling. 'It's good of you to come.'

Joshua took his hand and shook it, eyeing him thoughtfully. 'You've certainly changed since the last time we met, Sam Winchester.' He released Sam's hand several moments later than Dean would have liked. His eyes flickered over the scene, clearly appraising their work. 'Did you bless the water yourself?'

'Not this time,' Dean said, before Sam could say anything. 'We do that when we have to, of course, but we take it from churches whenever we can - Dad taught us to be prepared.'

Joshua nodded. 'Well, he certainly trained you both well.' He turned to Sam. 'Now, I've been doing some research into this, and I think you're right that K'daai is the most likely demon. That has some interesting implications for the choice of ritual. The demon comes from Yakut mythology - it's an elemental, a fire demon. Technically, it would be more effective if we could use a shamanic ritual in the Yakut language, but that would involve a significant delay while we found an expert. Theoretically, I think an exorcism ritual conducted in the Old Slavonic language of the Russian church should also work - it will be very interesting to see how effective it is...'

Dean groaned mentally as Sam and Joshua started discussing the ritual together. He ducked back upstairs to fetch the chair he'd selected before. God, give him a shotgun any day.

When he returned, they were still at it. Sam was poring over Joshua's notes, totally absorbed. Joshua also seemed absorbed, but his eyes were fixed on Sam.

'I'm gonna go collect Jacob, if we're about ready?' Dean said, voice a little rougher than he'd have liked.

Joshua's eyes flicked up to him. 'Of course. Sam and I can just talk over a few things.'

Dean hesitated in the doorway for a moment, holding Joshua's gaze.

Sam looked up, frowning slightly. 'Dean, you OK?'

'Yeah, fine.' Dean glanced from Joshua to Sam, and back. 'Awesome.' Hell, the guy was in his seventies, right? Sam could handle him for fifteen minutes. 'I'll be right back, OK?'

'OK,' Sam said slowly, sounding slightly puzzled.

Dean hesitated for a second longer, then turned and started to climb the stairs, uncomfortably aware of the two sets of eyes watching him go.

* * *

Dean took a while to return with Jacob, long enough that Sam was beginning to worry the kid had backed out. By the time the basement door swung open, he and Joshua had been over the procedure for the exorcism three times. Despite the fact that Joshua was performing the bulk of the ritual himself, he cross-examined Sam on almost every point, so exacting that Sam felt like he was being prepared for an exam in Slavonic Ritual 101.

'Sorry about the delay,' Dean said as he pushed into the room. 'Rebecca's a little antsy about leaving Jacob on his own.'

'Figures,' Sam said. If he'd been in Rebecca's shoes, he wasn't sure he would have let Jacob out of his sight at all. 'Gave us time to be sure of what we're doing, anyway.' He expected to see Jacob following Dean into the room, but the kid didn't appear.

Before Sam could open his mouth to ask the question, Dean cut in quickly. 'I sent Jacob to the bathroom before we get going. Figured he might need a minute to collect himself, and I'd rather get my head around how this is gonna work without him having to hear it all.'

Sam nodded in approval. 'It's not too far off the usual exorcism, although these Orthodox rituals sure do like the holy water. And... we _think_ there might be a way to help Jacob through this, make up for any damage when he's not being healed by the parasite any more.' Dean's expression wavered between scepticism and relief, and Sam forced himself to sound more confident than he felt. The truth was, this part of the plan was pretty much based on supposition and rumour, but even the chance that it might help was better than nothing. 'A lot of the Yakut rituals use wooden objects - symbols of the tree of life, it's a pretty important part of their mythology - and Joshua thinks maybe a birch twig might work to sort of draw the damage away from Jacob. I'm not too clear on how it works, but Dad always said to use the local lore if you could.'

'Sam, a freaking _birch twig_ ?' Dean hissed, shooting a glance in Joshua's direction. 'Where the hell are we gonna get that around here? We're not exactly in the Big Woods, in case you haven't noticed.'

'Dean, I wouldn't have even brought it up unless we could actually do it,' Sam said, torn between exasperation and understanding. 'Joshua's got one - he sure did his research before he came over here.'

'OK,' said Dean, relaxing a bit, although he still looked sceptical. 'So what do we do, wave a magic wand?'

Joshua moved over to join them. 'It simply requires that the wood be immersed in water for the duration of the ritual,' he said, holding out the smooth stick of wood, which admittedly did look more like a wand than anything Sam had seen outside of Harry Potter. 'My reading suggests that it is most effective if the object is held by someone who wishes well towards the person being healed. I imagine that you would like to assume this role?' The old man calmly offered the stick to Dean, who hesitated for a moment before seemingly coming to a decision.

'Fine. What do I have to do? Just hold it? No mumbo-jumbo or anything?'

Sam couldn't help a slight smile at the disdain in his brother's voice. Magic and rituals really weren't his thing.

'No chanting will be necessary,' Joshua said dryly. 'It might potentially interfere with the exorcism. You must simply be sure to hold the rod completely steady within the water, that is all.'

The door swung slowly open and Jacob stepped inside. He was very pale, unsurprisingly, but he managed to smile tremulously at Sam and Joshua when Dean introduced him. He sat on the chair in the centre of the circle without having to be told, and Sam had to look away as Dean tied the kid to it, talking reassuringly all the while, explaining what would happen and what to expect.

Finally there was no way to delay any more. Dean gave Jacob one more reassuring pat and stepped out of the circle. He accepted a bowl from Joshua and placed the stick of wood carefully in the water before taking up a position on the west side.

Dean nodded to Joshua. 'OK, let's go.' His voice was steady, but Sam knew that tone well enough to know his brother was still far from comfortable with what they were attempting.

Joshua cleared his throat and took his position at the east side of the circle, finding the correct page in his book. Sam gave Jacob what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and moved up to the south point of the circle, facing him straight on.

'Very well, if everyone is ready?' Joshua asked, glancing from Dean to Sam. He peered at the book more closely and began.

Old Church Slavonic wasn't a language Sam had any experience with. He'd performed countless rituals in Latin, and even a few in Sanskrit, but this time he had nothing to contribute. Apart from sprinkling holy water from time to time, all he could do was watch. The cadence of the chant was vaguely familar, close enough to the rituals he knew to be reassuring, but he was uncomfortable at not knowing what the words meant. It was too sharp a reminder of how it had felt to hear Bobby reading the exorcism over him, words reduced to meaningless sounds under the relentless crackle of interference which the demon had put between him and the world.

It was a reminder Sam could have done without.

The first part of the ritual was fairly standard, calling upon the names of god for aid. Sam watched Jacob closely, but it didn't seem to be affecting him at all, for good or ill. Even when Sam sprinkled holy water in time with Joshua's invocations, Jacob only flinched a little.

Then Joshua launched into the second section, the exorcism proper. On cue, Sam cast more holy water into the circle. The effect was instantaneous: Jacob arched up against the restraints, eyes glowing fiery red for a moment before subsiding to blue.

'It _hurts_,' he gasped out.

'We're right here, Jacob,' Dean said reassuringly. He sounded calm, but when Sam looked over at his brother he could see that Dean's fingers were white-knuckled as they gripped the bowl of water.

Sam's fingers clenched tight around the flask in his hands as he remembered the sense of skin burning under holy water, the demon's pain bleeding into his own. But it was the _demon's_ pain, he reminded himself; it didn't look like they were damaging Jacob. He looked over to Joshua, seeking confirmation. The old man glanced up at Sam for a moment, seemingly unconcerned, then turned the page and continued with the exorcism.

Jacob was breathing hard, biting his lip. As Joshua continued his chant, he threw his head back and screamed, before subsiding again, his chest heaving now with muffled sobs. Sam shifted uneasily, wishing there was a way to reduce the pain. _It'll be worth it_, he told himself, feeling the poker burn on his arm throb in sympathy.

'Jacob...' Dean said.

'Keep going,' Jacob gasped out. Sam could see tears streaming down the kid's face, but he looked determined. 'You said... you said it'd hurt. I'm not gonna chicken out.'

The kid was brave, Sam had to give him that. He nodded at him in acknowledgement, and glanced across at Dean, who met his eyes with an unhappy glare.

Joshua hadn't broken his chant, voice still rising and falling in the same smooth, calm cadence.

Fire was rippling out from around Jacob now, dancing over the chair and pushing at the edges of the circle. It didn't seem to be burning anything - Sam guessed that the restrictions of the circle prevented that - but he could feel the heat of it, straining to get free. When he cast more holy water the flames surged towards him, crackling and spitting sparks.

Jacob screamed again, but weakly this time. He sucked in gulps of air, his breathing harsh and laboured.

Sam watched in horror as burns started to blossom across Jacob's face, eating away at the skin as if under the heat of a fire, although none of the flames were touching the kid. It wasn't just the demon being hurt now... this looked more like what had happened with Meg

'Sam!' Dean called out urgently. Sam looked across and caught his breath. The birch twig was on fire: the flames leaping up, unnaturally tall, despite the fact that the wood was still immersed in the holy water. Dean was still holding on tightly to the bowl, but his eyes were flicking from the twig to Jacob.

Sam tried desperately to think of what to do. 'Should I pour some more holy water over it?'

Joshua paused in his chanting and looked from Dean to Sam. 'If either of you move from your positions, the circle will be broken. I rather thought you knew better than that, Sam. If you stay where you are, we'll be done in another few minutes.'

'_No_,' Dean said. 'We're not finishing this fucking ritual. Joshua, stop, this is torturing him.'

'No, go on,' Jacob gasped, almost inaudibly.

'Oh no,' Dean said. 'No, we are stopping this right now. Sam, we've got to stop.'

Joshua had already resumed his chant, and Sam stared as more burns appeared across Jacob's neck and arms, creeping down to his hands.

'Sam! We're killing the kid!' Dean said urgently. He was clutching the flaming bowl tightly, face strained.

Sam was still staring, torn. Jacob had _said_ to keep going, even though he'd been in pain. And when the alternative was a life spent fearing what kind of damage the demon might do... There was no way Sam wanted to condemn someone else to that kind of uncertainty. Surely they had to respect the kid's wishes?

He looked helplessly over at Joshua. The old man had raised his eyes from the book and was observing the scene dispassionately, chanting steadily while his eyes darted from Sam to Jacob and back again.

Sam looked at Jacob's hands, white and clenched, and saw burns blister across the skin.

There was a clatter and hiss as Dean dropped the bowl and started to move, but Sam was there first, striding across across the circle to Joshua, heedless of the flames that licked up at him as he passed the salt line.

'Enough,' he said, and tore the book from Joshua's hands. '_Enough_. We'll find another way.'

Joshua didn't resist as Sam slammed the book shut, just regarded him intently, eyes assessing. Sam had expected an argument or _something_, but Joshua merely said, 'I see. Very well,' and stepped back.

Sam stared at him for a long moment, confused, then Joshua's eyes shifted towards Jacob and Sam turned to look as well.

The circle had broken when he'd crossed the line, and the fire had left dark marks on the floor where it had burned for a moment. It was pulling back now, though, slowly sinking into Jacob's body. As the flames disappeared, the burns marring his skin gradually healed to red marks, then faded away to nothing.

Dean was already crouching beside the chair, cutting the rope away and calling Jacob's name.

The last of the flames vanished into Jacob's body, and he drew a shuddering gasp and opened his eyes. 'Is it... is it over? Is it gone?' With an obvious effort, he managed to lift his head and look from Dean to Sam, eyes still only half-focused.

'I'm sorry, Jacob,' Sam said softly. 'It didn't work. We had to stop the ritual - it was hurting you too badly.' He felt a pang at Jacob's stricken expression.

'We'll find another way, Jacob,' Dean said, his voice firm. 'I know you were hoping this would work and it would all be over, but sometimes life just ain't that easy. You did great, though, kid, you really did.'

'Why did you stop?' Jacob asked, his voice wavering. 'I would've - I said you should -'

'Yeah, you did,' Dean agreed. 'You're a helluva brave kid, your family should be damn proud of you. But -'

'- death is too high a price to pay, Jacob,' Sam finished. 'At least unless there's absolutely no other way.'

'We're not there yet,' Dean said. 'No reason we ever should be.'

His eyes met Sam's as he squeezed Jacob's shoulder, and Sam felt the corner of his lips turn up in a faint smile.

* * *

Dean helped Jacob to his feet, checking that the kid could stand OK before letting go of his arm. He looked around the room and was suddenly hit by the oppressive atmosphere. If he never smelled smoke again, it would be too soon.

'Let's get outta here,' he said, already shepherding Jacob towards the door.

They wound up in the kitchen, sitting awkwardly around the table like they were at a coffee morning; only Joshua remained standing, leaning against a counter next to the doorway.  
Dean was uncomfortably aware that the position gave the old man a far better view of them than any of them had of him. He didn't appreciate feeling like every movement he and Sam made was being observed and silently graded.

His main concern was Jacob, though. The kid was still pale and shaky, nervously licking dry, cracked lips. Dean got up and filled a glass with water, taking advantage of the movement to shift to a seat where he had a better view of the room himself. He set the glass in front of Jacob. 'Here.'

'Thanks,' Jacob mumbled, taking a sip. He looked from Dean to Sam and back again, a little nervously. 'What happens now?'

'We figure out the best way to make sure no one gets hurt,' Sam said, eyes flickering to Dean's for a moment. __

Dean gave a short nod.

Sam smiled briefly in return, then turned back to Jacob, face considering. 'This sort of thing only started happening recently, didn't it?'

Jacob nodded silently.

'OK, well that's good,' Sam said encouragingly. 'We know the parasite must have infected you when you were a baby, so if you went all these years without it causing any problems, it must be influenced by you somehow.'

Dean felt a stab of gratitude towards his brother. 'Yeah,' he agreed. 'And we already know you can control it, Jacob - you stopped that fire at the school. We just have to figure out a way to make sure fires don't even _start_ in future.'

'But how?' Jacob looked from one to the other. 'What... what if I can't? he added in a small voice, suddenly looking very young and tired.

'You already have, Jacob,' Dean reminded him again. 'You still got that knife I gave you?'

Jacob pushed back from the table. 'You said to keep it on me,' he said, sliding up his baggy jeans to show the sheath strapped to his skinny leg. He drew the knife carefully, holding it out for Dean to see.

'That's good,' Sam said. 'You said at the school that the fire wanted to go to it, didn't you?'

Jacob clutched the handle tightly. 'It did - when I concentrated and tried to get it to move, it - it went that way, went into it.'

'OK, so the knife helps,' Dean said. He thought for a minute. 'Hey, Jacob? Have you ever _tried_ to start a fire?'

'No!' Jacob said. His lip wobbled a little. 'I would never - why would you think that?'

'No, Jacob, listen to me. If you could _choose_ to start a fire, it would probably mean you had more control over this thing, right?' Dean looked to Sam for confirmation.

'Yeah... it makes sense,' Sam said slowly. 'When we were kids, our dad wanted us to learn how to undo knots, in case someone ever tied us up.' Sam paused at that point, as if suddenly considering how it might sound to an outsider. Dean smirked, just a little.

'Anyway,' Sam hurried on, 'first of all we had to learn how to tie the knots ourselves. We had to know how that worked before we could learn how to untie them again. The same sort of principle could apply here, Jacob - it's about knowing how it works and that you can control it.'

Jacob stared at him doubtfully. 'You _want_ me to start a fire?'

'We trust you, Jacob,' Dean said encouragingly. 'You can control this thing, you just need a little practice.' Jacob still looked uncertain, and Dean felt a twinge of doubt as to whether this was a good idea.

Joshua shifted slightly from his post by the door, body radiating disapproval, and Dean squashed his doubts down. He fished in his pocket for a box of matches. 'See if you can get that to light,' he said, taking one out and laying it on the table.

Jacob stared at him, then at the match, and then back at him again. 'Like... now?'

'No time like the present,' Sam said with an encouraging smile. 'You can do this, Jacob.'

Jacob looked back down at the match and took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush.

For a moment, nothing happened. Dean watched closely, then glanced across at Sam, who gave a near-imperceptible shrug in return.

Then the entire table caught on fire.

Jacob gasped and scrambled to his feet. 'Oh god!'

Dean jumped back from the table, pulling Sam with him. Joshua remained motionless and impassive, although Dean saw him frown a little, the same kind of expression Sam sometimes wore when doing a particularly difficult bit of research.

'OK,' Dean said, making sure his voice remained steady, raising it a little to be heard over the crackle of the flames. 'That's... good, Jacob. You're just an overachiever like Sammy here, that's all -'

Sam shot him a glare, then turned a more reassuring expression on Jacob. 'How about you try to bring it under control again now, Jacob? Focus on the knife, like you did last time, see if you can extinguish it.'

Jacob held the knife out before him, his brow furrowed with concentration, while the flames continued to burn merrily.

Then, slowly, they started to draw towards Jacob, flowing into the knife and disappearing.

'Dude!' said Dean, clapping Jacob on the back. 'You did it!'

'It's a good first step,' Sam said, more conservatively. 'But it shows you can do it, Jacob. If you work at it, you can control this.'

Joshua cleared his throat. 'Very possibly. But if you boys are set on the idea that the child can - er - _coexist_ with this demon, I feel you're neglecting something.'

'What?' demanded Dean. 'The kid can control it.'

'It appears so,' Joshua said, unruffled. 'But in my experience, these parasites have a tendency to take a toll on the host. If that's the case here, then the demon will eventually take the upper hand. Is that a risk you're willing to take?'

'Take the upper hand?' Sam said slowly. 'You mean... it would take control of him? Or kill him altogether?'

'Possibly both. I have no experience of this precise type of creature, so it's impossible to say for certain.' Joshua regarded Jacob from over the top of his glasses. 'The fact remains, even if the child can control it, the demon will outlive him, one way or another.'

Something he had read suddenly clicked together to make sense in Dean's brain. 'The firefighter that was the previous host - the one who passed it on to Jacob - the obituary said he'd been diagnosed with cancer not long before.'

'You think that's why the parasite moved on?' Sam asked.

'I think the fireman knew what he was doing,' Dean said slowly, piecing it together as he spoke. 'He knew it was over. And I think when he found you in that fire, Jacob, he figured he could go out quick, save your life instead of clinging on for months in some hospital bed. His widow, in the article, she said it was how he'd have wanted to go. I think that was truer than she even knew - he chose to do it.'

Jacob appeared to have lost the thread of their conversation after Joshua had chimed in; he was growing visibly more upset as he glanced sideways at the old man and then back down at the ground, fidgeting in obvious agitation.

'He thinks I can't control it?' he demanded finally, blinking back tears.

'No, Jacob, that's not what he's saying.' Dean shot a glare at Joshua, daring him to interrupt. 'I think you _can_ control it. The guy who passed it on to you, he lived with it all his life, and it seems like it only passed on to you when _he_ decided. It was what helped him save so many people from fires.'

'Wait, so you're saying the parasite was _helping_ this guy?' Sam said.

Dean hadn't exactly framed that thought in his mind, but now it was obvious. 'Yeah - there's no way he could have done what he did without it. Hell, he must've been the perfect fireman - remember how even the smoke in the school didn't affect you, Jacob? And if it helped him control the actual fires... The parasite's not trying to kill anyone, it's just protecting its host, healing him, even. Except I guess cancer was a bit beyond its powers, or maybe he just figured he'd had his time. It was a what d'you call it, a -'

'A symbiotic relationship,' Sam supplied. 'It does fit.' He turned to Joshua. 'In the mythology, K'daai doesn't appear as a malign figure, does he?'

Joshua pursed his lips. 'No... blacksmith and healer, as a matter of fact.'

'Which explains the knife!' Dean said in sudden realisation. 'The iron's not deadening the magic - the parasite's trying to _use_ the iron.' He thought for a second. 'Jacob, try focusing a fire on the knife. Maybe you can work the metal, get it to change shape.'

'Dean,' Sam said. 'It's nearly seven o'clock. We haven't got time for any more experiments - his parents are going to be frantic.'

Dean looked at his watch. _Shit_. 'And we've gotta clean the crap up downstairs, too.'

'I'll organise that,' Joshua said calmly. His manner had shifted in some way Dean couldn't define, as if he'd come to a decision about something. 'You boys get Jacob home, before his family launches a missing persons search for him.'

Dean eyed him for a moment, then decided to take the offer at face value for now. 'OK, great. We're staying at the Sunshine Inn. How about you meet us there later?' Without waiting for a response, he clapped Jacob on the shoulder. 'Looks like you get to ride in my baby again, kid. Let's get out of here.'

'OK,' Jacob said, looking relieved. Watching him follow Sam to the car, Dean was suddenly reminded of just how young the kid was. Fucking rough day's work for a twelve-year-old.

He speeded up his step and opened the passenger door for Jacob. 'You can get in back, little bro,' he told Sam. 'Shotgun's reserved for the people who've been doing all the work.'

'Jerk,' Sam said, but got in the back anyway. 'Big brothers,' he grumbled as they pulled away.

'We're the best,' Dean said, and turned the music up loud.

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala over in front of the house where the Areys were staying. His heart sank as the front door immediately opened to reveal a frantic-looking Rebecca.

_Shit_. They hadn't discussed how to handle Jacob's parents.

'Oh thank god, we've been so worried,' Rebecca was babbling. 'Where have you _been_, Jacob? Your father's out searching the streets for you.'

'Why don't we step inside?' Sam suggested smoothly.

Rebecca ushered them in, hands fluttering over Jacob as if to touch him.

'I'm sorry, Rebecca,' Dean said, still searching frantically for a good explanation. 'I - er - perhaps you're aware that Jacob's been having some problems lately, with the fires and all.'

_Crap_. This was about the worst explanation _ever_.

'That is,' Sam jumped in, shooting him a glare, 'we -'

'It's me, Rebecca,' Jacob said suddenly. 'I've been causing the fires. I didn't mean to - I never meant to hurt Zach, I _swear_ -'

Rebecca stared at him in confusion, sinking down onto a chair. 'Of course you didn't, Jacob - I was there. You weren't anywhere near that, sweetheart, there's no way you could have caused it.'

Jacob swallowed hard. 'I - I'm -'

'Psychic,' Dean jumped in quickly, before Jacob could say something like 'infected with a demonic parasite', because really? There was no way to make that sound good. 'Jacob's been developing some, uh, special abilities'

'Psychic?' Rebecca said weakly. 'You mean to say - _psychic_?'

There was a short silence, and Dean worried that it was going to be too much for her to believe. Fuck, if he were in her position, he wouldn't give them the time of day.

'I'm _sorry_, Rebecca, I didn't know, but Dean found me, and I'm gonna learn to control it and -' Jacob paused for breath and suddenly, unexpectedly, burst into tears. All the unnatural calmness and resolve he had maintained throughout the exorcism and its aftermath dissolved in one instant, as he shook with messy, helpless sobs that reminded Dean just how young a kid he was.

Rebecca started to reach out, then hesitated for a fraction of a second before touching his arm. 'Honey... c'mon, it's OK.'

Jacob went to her, burying his head against her shoulder, and Dean watched the surprise and relief and pleasure flash across Rebecca's face before she wrapped her arms more securely around the boy, holding him close. 'C'mon, shh, I know you didn't mean it, don't cry, baby, it'll be all right.'

Dean wasn't sure if she'd actually accepted the psychic story or not, but it seemed she was at least willing to accept it made sense to Jacob.

'I didn't mean to,' Jacob was sobbing quietly against her neck. Rebecca rocked him gently, murmuring reassurances until he calmed a little. Finally she disentangled herself from him a little. 'Jacob, you know that can't be true, right?'

_Oh crap._ Clearly it _was_ too much for her to believe.

She fixed Dean and Sam with a look of disgust. 'I don't know what you thought you were doing, telling him these stories. I can only assume that in some twisted way you thought it would help, but I'll thank you both to leave. Now. Jacob's been through enough.'

Dean quailed under her glare.

'Rebecca, no!' Jacob exclaimed. 'They've been helping me, I swear. I'm not lying to you!'

'Oh, Jacob, of course I'm not accusing you of lying,' Rebecca said, returning her attention to him at once. 'They've just been filling your head with nonsense when you've had a difficult time recently, and -'

'Rebecca, you've _got_ to believe me,' Jacob said. 'Honestly, I can show you, _please_.' He pulled out the knife.

Rebecca gasped. Dean winced again. _Ah, hell._

Jacob furrowed his brow in concentration, obviously trying to conjure up a flame. 'Jacob, wait!' Dean said hastily. The last thing they needed was for the kid to accidentally set the whole house on fire. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out the matches. 'I'll light one, OK? And you can call the flame to the knife.'

Jacob seemed to see the sense of this. 'OK,' he said, and waited impatiently while Dean struck the match.

The four of them watched the flame flare up. It flickered for a moment and seemed to go out, then jumped across the room. It hovered on the end of the knife for a moment - almost as if showing itself off - before being absorbed into the metal.

Rebecca gasped again, staring.

'See?' Jacob said, beaming triumphantly, but with an edge of relief that told Dean just how uncertain he had been about being believed.

'Oh my,' Rebecca said weakly. 'I don't... this is some kind of trick...' She looked dazedly from Jacob to Dean and back.

'You know it's not,' Dean said quietly.

'No... this is real, isn't it?' Rebecca's voice was still faint. 'Oh, Gavril would say I was crazy to be taken in by this, but... Jacob really moved that flame, didn't he? I was right to say those fires were unnatural...' She trailed off, obviously still struggling to absorb everything.

'Rebecca, I realise this must come as quite a shock,' Sam said gently.

Rebecca was still staring at the knife. 'You could say that. Oh, I've always believed such things exist, but you don't expect a member of your family to suddenly turn out to be psychic.' She managed to smile at Jacob reassuringly, though she still looked a little dazed.

'Yeah, that sort of thing can come as a shock,' Dean agreed, pointedly not looking at Sam.

'I'm going to learn to control it,' Jacob told her again. 'I didn't mean - I didn't know before. I'm not going to let it happen again, I promise.'

'He'll need to practise,' Sam put in. 'But we're pretty sure that it's just a matter of gaining a little control.'

Rebecca looked at them. 'You're not from the fire department after all, are you?'

''Fraid not,' Dean said with an apologetic grin.

'So... what are you exactly?' Rebecca asked warily.

'This is... pretty much what we do,' Sam said, with his best we're-harmless smile. 'Dealing with things that are out of the normal, trying to help people, that sort of thing.'

'Well, thank you for helping Jacob,' Rebecca said. 'Will you be teaching him to control his... abilities?'

Jacob looked up hopefully, and Dean realised with a sinking heart that neither of the Areys had grasped that they wouldn't be staying. Sam started to speak, but Dean shot him a look and he shut up hurriedly.

'Jacob,' Dean said as gently as he could. 'I'd like to stick around and help you, but there're a lot of other people who need our help too, do you understand?'

Jacob stared at him. 'You're... you're _leaving_?'

'I'm sorry,' Dean said. 'But you don't need us anymore, man. You've got a grip on this thing.'

'I don't! I can't do it... I need you...' Jacob was obviously on the verge of tears once more.

'You don't mean to tell me you're just going to leave him,' Rebecca said in horror. 'He's only _twelve_, how do you expect him to figure something like this out on his own?'

'I'm sorry,' Dean said again, hating the inadequacy of the word. 'But we can't stay.'

'There's someone who can help Jacob, though,' Sam offered quietly. 'A friend of ours - he's very knowledgeable about this sort of thing. He'll probably be more use than us, to tell you the truth.'

Dean opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. It wasn't as though they had a lot of choice in the matter. Besides, he had a hunch that things might run smoother with Joshua once he and Sam were out of the picture. The way the guy had watched them deal with Jacob, catalogued their reactions... Dean suspected it wasn't _Jacob _he had a problem with.

'Joshua will help you.' Sam was addressing Jacob now. 'He lives pretty near here, and he doesn't travel around the way we do.'

Dean pulled a scrap bit of paper out of a pocket and jotted down his cell number on it. 'And if anything happens, anything at all - if you need us, call me and we'll come, I promise.' He held out the piece of paper.

Jacob met his eyes for a long moment, still blinking back tears, then took it, swiping one hand across his face and nodding. 'OK.'

Dean nodded too. _Hell_. He didn't want to leave the kid like this; he wished there was something else he could say, something else he could offer to make things better. But he was out of ideas.

'We'd better be going,' Sam said softly. 'Call us if anything comes up, Jacob, and good luck. Sorry for intruding, Rebecca, and for springing such a shock on you...'

'We'll have to cook up a good story to tell your father, won't we, Jacob?' Rebecca said, obviously trying to distract the boy. 'Lord knows he'd never believe the truth. But I'm sure we can come up with something. Thank you, both of you, for all your help. This friend of yours will be in touch?'

'Yeah,' Dean said. 'I'll make sure of it.'

He clasped Jacob's shoulder. 'Bye, kiddo. You keep working on that gift of yours, OK? See if you can manage to shape that knife into something that won't get you expelled from school.'

Jacob swallowed hard and stood a bit taller. 'I won't let you down.'

'Not a chance of it,' Dean said confidently. He gave Jacob's shoulder one last squeeze, then turned to go.

He heard Sam murmur reassurances and goodbyes behind him, but didn't look back as he left.

Halfway to the street, he heard a voice calling his name and stopped in his tracks, swinging back round. It was Jacob, rushing across the yard towards him, knife still clutched in one hand. Dean had a moment to hope none of the neighbours around here were as nosy as Mrs Robinson before Jacob was stuttering to a halt in front of him.

'I've got to...' Jacob trailed off, looking slightly breathless and slightly desperate. Then he held out his left hand, the hand not holding the knife. A nickel gleamed dully in the fading light.

Dean stared at it, then at Jacob.

'For the knife,' Jacob said. Then, more quietly, 'So you'll come back again, sometime.'

Dean knew the superstition, of course - that a knife as a gift symbolised severing ties. He wasn't exactly a superstitious kind of guy, but there were some things he was too smart to mess with. Knives were the one kind of weapon Winchesters never gave each other. It had never occurred to him that Jacob might know it too, though.

Slowly, he reached out and took the nickel. Jacob's smile was still a little watery, but it was real.

'Where'd you learn about that?' Dean asked. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye again yet.

'Rebecca,' Jacob said. 'She believes in all kinds of stuff, you know? I always thought it was just stories, but, well. Now...'

Dean nodded, glancing up to see Sam and Rebecca standing in the doorway, watching them and talking quietly. 'Yeah. Maybe you should try listening to her, kiddo.'

Jacob's lips twitched ruefully. 'Yeah. Yeah, I know.'

Dean grinned at him. 'You look after that knife of yours, OK?' He saw Sam say something to Rebecca and then start down the path towards them.

Jacob followed his gaze. 'Guess you have to go,' he said.

'Yeah,' Dean agreed softly. 'But we'll be back when we can, Jacob.' He slipped the nickel into his pocket, and they stood in silence for a moment.

Sam slowly came the last few feet towards them. 'OK?' he asked quietly.

'Yeah,' Jacob said. 'OK.' He gave Dean another smile, then turned back towards the house.

Dean got into the car, and Sam slid in next to him. 'Are _you_ OK?' Sam asked as Dean started the engine.

Dean looked back at the house to see Jacob standing close by Rebecca in the doorway. He waved when he saw Dean looking.

'Yeah,' Dean said, and pulled out onto the road. 'I'm good.'

* * *

It was late by the time they got back to the motel. Dean winced at the sight of Joshua's Robinson-mobile outside and carefully parked the Impala at the other end of the lot, even though it meant they had further to walk to their room. He really didn't want anyone to connect his baby with that rustbucket.

'You think Joshua will be staying here tonight?' Sam asked, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind him. 'It's getting late. Be good if he did stay, we need to talk to him about helping Jacob.'

'Yeah,' Dean said without enthusiasm. 'We'll call him, see what room he's staying in, I guess.'

'Man, we stink of smoke _again_,' Sam said ruefully. 'I call first shower.'

'Not if I get there first, bitch,' Dean said, speeding up his step.

Sam sped up too, jostling him aside as they reached the stairs. Dean jostled him back, racing the last few steps up to the room. He dropped back as he reached the door, then froze as he noticed the tiny crack of light shining out from under it.

Sam came to a halt too, eyes alert as they met Dean's.

Dean pulled out his gun, Sam drawing his own and shifting to the right to cover his brother. Then Dean kicked the door open, gun sweeping the room.

'Did you boys forget your key?' Joshua enquired mildly, putting down the page of Sam's notes he'd been studying.

Dean exchanged a look with Sam and stepped inside, putting his gun away. 'Looks like you didn't. Good to see you making yourself at home.'

'I seemed to be attracting some attention out in the parking lot, so I let myself in,' Joshua said. 'I knew you wouldn't mind.'

'Mind? Why would we mind?' Dean said with a brightness he didn't feel, glancing around the room.

'You're staying the night, then?' Sam asked, shutting the door. 'That's great - I was hoping we'd have a chance to talk to you about Jacob.'

'Really?' Joshua said. 'You boys haven't come to a decision, then?'

'Ain't got many choices,' Dean said curtly. 'Either exorcise the kid, or trust him to keep control of this thing. I'd have been happier if we could have found a demon-free option, but judging by how things went today, that pretty much amounts to murder.'

'Indeed,' Joshua said. 'So you're going with the second option, then?' His voice was neutral, betraying nothing about what he might be thinking.

'Seems like,' said Dean. 'We told his mom you'd be around, keeping an eye out for him. That gonna be a problem?'

Joshua raised an eyebrow. 'Of course not. I live nearby, so it'll pose no particular difficulties. And it will be interesting to observe how this particular case develops - most unusual.'

'Do you think he can do it?' Sam asked Joshua, voice worried. 'Have you ever come across any references to something like this?'

'There have been documented cases of parasites, of course,' Joshua said. 'But every case is unique. Some of those parasites were exorcised. In other cases the host was killed. In this case, the host is a twelve-year-old child, and there's no telling whether that will work for or against him.'

Sam bit his lip. 'I wish there were another way... we're taking a hell of a risk. What if he _does_ lose control?'

'In the event that the boy becomes a danger, I will take appropriate action, of course.' Joshua said calmly. _Too_ calmly, as far as Dean was concerned, considering the guy had just spent an afternoon watching a kid nearly fucking _burn_ to death.

_Appropriate action_. Dean didn't like the way this conversation was going. Especially as he wasn't convinced Joshua was talking only about Jacob. 'It won't come to that, as long as you keep helping the kid to control it,' he said firmly.

'Dean,' Sam said quietly. He didn't have to say any more. They both knew that sometimes it _did_ come to that.

Dean met his brother's solemn, earnest gaze and had to look away. Fuck, he was really hating the undertones of this conversation. 'Yeah, well,' he said, feeling suddenly defeated. 'If it does come to that, make it quick and clean. I dunno what that parasite can heal, but that exorcism... no one deserves to die like that.'

'Death is never a pleasant option,' Joshua said, eyes intent. 'But sometimes it _is_ the only one, as I think we all know.'

Dean narrowed his eyes. 'Maybe so. But it's always the last one, the way I see it.'

Joshua's lips quirked in a half-smile. 'Yes, you've made that much clear, Dean.'

Sam shifted uncomfortably. 'So... you'll check in with Jacob before you leave town? He told his stepmom what's going on, so you'll need to talk to her too.'

'I will,' Joshua agreed. 'I have their details, I think.' He gestured to the pile of notes on the bed.

_Yeah, I bet you have, you bastard. _Though Dean would wager good money that wasn't what Joshua had been looking for.

'Well, Joshua, I've gotta take a shower and put Sammy here to bed. We need to make an early start in the morning.' Dean held the door open for Joshua, half-closing it again as soon as the guy was through, and blocking the way with his body. Maybe it was a little rude, but hell, so was breaking into their room and going through their things.

'Thanks for your help, Joshua,' he said. 'You'll take good care of Jacob, I'm sure.'

'Of course,' Joshua agreed blandly.

'Good. And if you feel like there's any need for action, you call us first.' Dean looked Joshua in the eye. 'Wouldn't want you to come to any harm.'

'Likewise,' Joshua said, his voice cool. 'I'm sure you heard of what happened to Steve Wandell. He was a good hunter - I worked with him myself.' He paused significantly. 'But these are dangerous times for hunters, it seems.'

'Seems so,' Dean agreed, hoping the jolt of panic he'd felt at hearing that name wasn't showing on his face. 'Guess we all need to watch our backs.'

Joshua regarded him steadily. 'You're a lot like your father, Dean Winchester. You look after your brother, now.'

'Damn right,' Dean said, and closed the door in his face.

* * *

'Sam. _Sammy_. Wake up, slowpoke.'

Sam groaned and swatted at Dean's arm, which was currently engaged in pulling the comforter off him. 'What time is it? The sun's barely up, Dean.'

'So the roads'll be quiet. Let's get a good start, we could make Los Lunas by noon. I hear there's a haunting out there.'

Sam wasn't buying that explanation, but there was no point arguing when Dean got like this. He pulled on some clothes and followed his brother to the car, slightly mollified by the cup of coffee Dean had waiting.

'I guess it's a bit too early to swing by and say goodbye to Joshua before we take off,' he said experimentally, taking a sip.

'Way too early,' Dean agreed. 'Get in, Sammy, I'm ready to get outta here.'

Sam nodded to himself. Yeah, that was about what he'd figured. He didn't comment, though, just slid into the passenger's seat. He didn't miss the fact that Dean's eyes barely left the rearview mirror until they were out of sight of the motel.

As they passed the road that led to the Areys' part of town, Dean slowed a little, but didn't look in that direction. Sam glanced across at his brother, but Dean was focusing on the road ahead, his face unreadable. Sam guessed it wasn't just the Joshua issue that was bothering Dean: this wasn't quite like leaving one of their usual jobs behind.

'I think Joshua will look after Jacob,' he offered. 'I know he's a bit of an odd fish, but he does know his stuff.'

'Yeah, he knows his stuff all right,' Dean said heavily. 'I'm not worried about Jacob.'

Sam looked at him for a moment. 'OK, if you say so. He'll be OK, Dean. We've done all we can.'

'Yeah,' Dean said again.

Sam waited for more, but it seemed the conversation was closed.

Dean still hadn't turned any music on, and Sam could see the muscle in his cheek twitching. But before Sam could think of any way to draw his brother out, Dean suddenly pulled the Impala over.

'What are you -?' Sam started to ask, but Dean was already climbing out.

'Just a minute,' Dean said, and hurried across the street, where a young guy was just pulling the shutters up on his store.

Sam stared after him, then caught sight of the display of basketballs in the window. He felt himself break into a smile. Dean had some good ideas, every now and then.

When Dean finally emerged from the store, he was crumpling what looked like a delivery receipt in his hand. He got in the car without a word.

Sam grinned over at him. 'You find the perfect one?'

'Shut up, bitch.' Dean reached over and jammed a tape into the stereo, turning the volume up high. 'Let's burn rubber.'

Sam turned his head to look out of his window, but he couldn't stop smiling.

The Impala roared into life, and by the time they passed into the desert Dean was singing along with the music.

They left Phoenix behind them, bright in the morning sun.


	6. Chapter 6

Two beautiful covers for this fic were created by the wonderful lady_vyola on livejournal. Her [art post can be found here](http://ladyvyola.livejournal.com/132654.html).

 

 


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